Trouble Doubled
by Rae Roberts
Summary: Scheming villains; dastardly plots; not one but two young girls aboard the Black Pearl; it's enough to make Mr. Gibbs lose what's left of his sanity.
1. Prologue

Prologue

"Pirates ! A pirate ship to starboard ," came the cry from the crow's nest. "All hands on deck !" the command soon followed. The crew rushed to their positions. The little knot of passengers huddled by the rail, watching the approaching ship anxiously. She was just a tiny dot on the horizon, but gaining fast. 

The captain of the _Steadfast_ strode by, bellowing orders. "Get below," he ordered the passengers curtly.

One of the men grabbed his arm. "Can't you outrun her ? I thought the _Steadfast_ was a fast ship."

The captain jerked his arm out of the man's grasp. "Aye, the _Steadfast_ is quick, but that ship there is the fastest vessel I've ever laid eyes on. There's no way we can outrun her. We'll have to fight." His eyes traveled over the anxious knot of passengers. "Safest place for you is below. You'll only be in the way on deck." He looked up sharply as the boy in the crow's nest shouted again.

"Cap'n ! It's…it's the _Black Pearl_ !

"The _Black Pearl_ !" The passengers gaped at one another, horrified. The captain's face turned white. Terrified murmurs could be heard across the deck. "The _Pearl_ ! Fastest ship on the sea – a cursed ship ! I heard they take no prisoners. Her captain's mad. I heard he killed twenty Royal Navy Marines with his bare hands !"

One passenger whirled and headed aft to the cabins. The others milled about, too frightened to obey the captain's order to go below. The captain, frantically rallying his crew, had no more time to spare for any of them.

The pirate ship drew closer. Now all could see the dreaded black hull, the grinning Jolly Rodger flying from the main mast. The captain stood on the deck, his eyes narrowed. He was not a cowardly man by any means, but his heart pounded in his throat. As he stared at the approaching ship, he knew he was facing death.

Suddenly, he felt a hand tug his sleeve. Turning, he glared. "I told you, get below," he snapped. The passenger was holding something out to him. He dismissed it, turned away.

"Wait. This may be our salvation," the passenger insisted, thrusting the item at him urgently. The captain looked down. In his hands was a bundle of deep blue silk. A flag ? "Lower the colors," the passenger commanded. "Run that up the flag pole. Hurry !"

The captain shook out the flag, looked closer at it. It wasn't a flag at all, but a woman's gown, or perhaps a child's. The skirt was creased. Obviously it had lain folded away for a long time. His lip curled. "You're mad," he said.

"Do as I say, man, before it's too late. You have nothing to lose."

That was true. The captain flung the gown to one of the sailors and curtly gave the order. Within minutes, the blue silk fluttered in the wind at the top of the mast. Every man aboard the _Steadfast_ waited tensely as the _Black Pearl_ approached.

She was within firing range. The cannons did not fire. The _Pearl_ sailed closer. "She's going to pass within twenty yards of us," the captain breathed, amazed. He looked down at his passenger with new respect, then gaped at the pirate vessel through his spyglass. The passengers and crew of the _Steadfast _lined up along the rail, staring at the ship as it drew ever closer. The crew of the _Black Pearl_ was crowded along the rail of their own ship, watching. The captain of the merchant ship could see the captain of the _Black Pearl_, the notorious Captain "Mad Jack" Sparrow, leaning casually at the rail of the poop deck, looking at the _Steadfast _through his own brass spyglass. Within moments the two ships were close enough that no spyglasses were needed. The two crews stared as the ships passed, literally close enough that the men could look into one another's eyes. The crew of the _Steadfast _was tense, uncomprehending. The crew of the _Pearl _grinned mockingly at them.

The captain gaped as his strange passenger waved wildly, smiling from ear to ear. He looked back over at the pirate ship. Her captain lounged at ease against the rail. As his eyes fell on the waving passenger, his lips curved in a grin. He stood up straight and lifted his right hand to the brim of his black cocked hat in a salute. He held that salute as he met the passenger's eyes across the waves. Then the hand snapped back to his side. 

"Mad Jack" Sparrow slouched back against the rail and favored the captain of the _Steadfast _with a sneer. Faster than any mundane ship could possibly sail, the _Black Pearl_ drew away from them and soon disappeared over the horizon.

  



	2. Brawn

Captain Jack Sparrow and his trusty first mate Mr. Gibbs lounged at a corner table in the second-most disreputable bar in Del Rio, backs against the wall. Glasses of rum, barely touched, sat in front of them. Their eyes shifted back and forth in the smoky gloom, observing the patrons. "A motley-lookin' crew, if ever there was one," breathed Mr. Gibbs, pleased. He and the Cap'n barely drew a second glance. "Ah, here he comes now," he said, unnecessarily, looking toward the door. The Cap'n had already noticed the two thugs shouldering their way into the room. They were not the client, but merely heralded his imminent arrival.

Burly, neck-less, they pushed toward the bar. One leaned against it, scanning the room, as the other ordered drinks. The first jerked his head toward Sparrow and Gibbs as he accepted a glass of rum from his companion. They muscled their way through the crowd to the table. 

Captain Sparrow leaned back in his chair, hat tipped low over his eyes, and regarded the two bodyguards silently. "Captain Sparrow. My name is McNeil, and this is my associate, Mr. Cooper," the first thug introduced himself, holding out a hand roughly the size of a Virginia ham. Sparrow did not respond. 

Mr. Gibbs snorted, knocked the offered hand away from his captain. "The Cap'n don't want no chit-chat with the hired help," he growled. "Set yerselves down; we'll wait for yer boss." The thugs glared as they took their seats. Cooper slammed a bottle of red wine onto the table. It was the best the establishment had to offer, obviously intended for the client when he arrived. He started to slam down a stemmed wine glass, then thought better of it. The delicate glass looked out of place in his huge paw as the bodyguard gently set it down next to the bottle at the remaining empty place. Gibbs gave both men his best pirate glare. The Cap'n had instructed him that they would play it tough with this client. The four men sat in surly silence, nursing their drinks.

The client was not long in arriving. Slim, brown-haired, about five-foot-nine, he slipped through the door a few minutes later. Though he wore rough workmen's garments, his slender, unmarked hands and erect posture marked him as belonging to a far higher income class than the average patron of the bar. He looked around nervously. McNeil waved. The client approached the table.

"Captain Sparrow," he nodded briefly as he took his seat. The man sneered at the bottle of cheap wine, then ignored it. "Are you prepared to discuss the details of our agreement ?"

"That's why I'm here," the pirate drawled, lazily. "As I understand it, I'm to kidnap the lieutenant governor's niece and bring her to ye on an uncharted island, the coordinates of which ye'll be leavin' for me after ye set sail for said island tonight." Mr. Gibbs sucked in his breath involuntarily. Kidnapping ! That wasn't the Cap'n's way. The client glanced at the first mate, raised his eyebrows.

"It's not our usual type of job," Sparrow said smoothly, nudging Gibbs' foot under the table. "Kidnappin' can get…messy. That's why I'll regretfully have to be doublin' me fee."

The slender man's face paled. His eyes narrowed and his lips pursed in anger. "We agreed on four hundred pounds," he said, voice tight.

"Well, now it'll be eight hundred," replied the pirate, jauntily. He swirled the rum in his glass. "Made it easy for ye, nice round number." 

The client glanced at his two huge bodyguards. "McNeil, Cooper. Take care of this scum." He started to rise from his seat. Strong callused hands, suddenly appearing on his shoulders, held him down. The two thugs started up, then looked around, dismayed. No less than a dozen of the tavern's clients now stood watching them intently, naked steel or cocked pistols ready in their hands. 

"Havin' a pleasant evenin', Cap'n Sparrow, sir ?" asked the sailor whose hands rested on the client's shoulders.

Sparrow raised an eyebrow at the client. The slim man spread his hands on the table, admitting defeat. "McNeil, pay the man," he gritted.

"A lovely evenin', thank ye, Charlie," Captain Sparrow said to the sailor. Charlie took his hands off the client's shoulders and withdrew. The tension in the bar lowered considerably as weapons were hidden away again. McNeil handed across a purse of money, then, reluctantly, a second purse. Sparrow tossed both to Mr. Gibbs, who counted out the heavy golden coins laboriously.

"The rest of our deal goes as planned," the client said, his voice icy. "You get the girl and bring her to me in two week's time. I sail tonight. You will be able to keep on schedule ?"

"Aye, the _Black Pearl_ is the fastest ship that ever sailed," replied the pirate, cocky, his hand sketching waves through the air in front of him. "We'll have to dawdle to avoid beatin' ye to the island." As Gibbs passed the eight hundred pounds to him, Captain Jack Sparrow leaned further back in his seat and waved a hand airily at the client and his befuddled guards. "Pleasure doin' business with ye."

  



	3. Brains

"Ah, Jack, ye cut it mighty fine," said Gibbs, admiringly, a few minutes after the first client and his two bodyguards had left. The first mate's attention had been drawn to two men who had slipped into the tavern. To the casual observer, they appeared to be ordinary sailors. Captain Sparrow called loudly for more rum, and several of his own sailors casually withdrew from the bar. The pirate raised his glass and rolled his eyes to one side, drawing Gibbs' attention to a third man who had entered from the back. The two buccaneers watched as the three newcomers expertly cased the establishment.

"First brawn, now brains. Interesting." Sparrow murmured. It was true. The first client's bodyguards had been simply muscle-bound thugs. The second client had opted for skilled, intelligent men.

"Royal Navy ?" speculated Gibbs.

His companion shrugged. "Probably. It makes no difference. The last client was naughty;" he leered, "with this one, we play nice."

The client himself entered, as though on cue. Or rather, the client's agent, thought Sparrow. The man he expected to hire the _Black Pearl_ tonight was not the type to enter a dive such as this. The man approaching them had the authority to act on the client's behalf. He stood before them now, waiting for permission to join them. Mr. Gibbs half-rose from his chair. "Please, take a seat, Mr…"

"Alberts," supplied the agent. He was also slender, but well-muscled, with long blond hair pulled into a ponytail at the back of his neck. His eyes scanned the two rogues intently.

"Glass of wine, Mr. Alberts ?" offered the first mate, playing the role of host to the hilt. "Ordered it special, the Cap'n did, knowin' a high-class gentleman such as yerself would be joinin' us tonight." Alberts raised his eyebrows momentarily, then nodded. Gibbs filled the newcomer's glass with a flourish.

"Mr. Alberts," said Sparrow, leaning forward across the table and offering his hand, "Captain Jack Sparrow, at yer service."

Alberts shook the pirate's hand, his grip firm. "I want you to take delivery of a very precious cargo," the man began. "It is imperative this cargo be safely delivered to Jamaica as quickly as possible. When can you sail ?"

"Tomorrow evening, Mr. Alberts. Bring me the cargo tomorrow afternoon, and I will have it delivered to Jamaica within three weeks' time." Mr. Gibbs wisely kept his mouth shut.

"Excellent. You did come highly recommended by my agents in Jamaica," remarked Alberts.

Sparrow smiled and preened like a peacock. Suddenly, he leaned back and spread his hands wide. "Well-deserved compliments aside, there is still the matter of me fee."

"I am prepared to pay you eight hundred pounds."

Captain Jack Sparrow took a long drink from his glass, buying time to think. He had to take this job. Eight hundred pounds was a handsome sum. Gibbs watched his captain closely. What was he up to ? Just then, a woman nearby laughed loudly. The three men turned to look.

The harlot had clearly had a bit too much to drink. Her bosom came dangerously close to spilling out of her low-cut dress as she leaned over a tall man, muffled in a hooded cloak, seated two tables away. "Come on love, take off that cape an' let me have a look at ye," she slurred. "Are ye that ugly ? It don't make no difference to me if ye are. Buy us a drink an' I'll show ye a real nice time." The man pushed her away from him violently. She screamed as she fell back against the adjacent table.

Gibbs, Sparrow, and Alberts exchanged looks. It was hot and stuffy in the room. None of them had seen the man come in. The hooded figure became aware of their scrutiny. He pushed back his chair and shoved past the drunken woman. Unwilling to give up, she plucked at his arm as he rushed by. "Don't be shy, love." He pushed her away, throwing her to the floor. His cloak was dislodged for a second as he raised a fist at her. Sparrow caught a glimpse of an enameled signet ring. Then the man yanked his cloak back around him and was gone.

The men returned to their business, ignoring the harlot, who was screaming curses as she swayed drunkenly to her feet. Sparrow cocked his head to one side as he addressed Alberts. "Seein' as this cargo is so valuable, I'm wonderin' why a man of discernment such as yerself would be so eager to be rid of it." He spread his hands apologetically. "Not wishin' to overstep me boundaries, just wonderin'. Why not just keep it for yerself ?"

Alberts spoke slowly, as though considering his words carefully. "Well, Captain Sparrow, I inherited the cargo...and there is some dispute among the, _ahem_, other heirs. I dare not keep the cargo, lest it be stolen from me."

Sparrow came to a decision. He sat back, shaking his head sadly. "I'm afraid, under the circumstances…" he let his eyes stray to the spurned woman, who had regained her footing and was shaking her fist after the retreating stranger. "I cannot take on such a huge responsibility for any less than twelve hundred pounds," he said, apologetically.

Alberts looked the pirate over appraisingly. "Done," he said. Without hesitation, he handed over a heavy purse. Sparrow pocketed it immediately. As Alberts left, he sat back and smirked to himself. So far, it had been a very satisfying evening. And the night wasn't over yet.


	4. Cargo

Mr. Gibbs staggered a bit as he answered the soft knock at the door. "Cap'n. Yer lookin' fresh as a daisy," he remarked, grabbing his boots and following Sparrow down the narrow, squalid hallway.

  


"Have a pleasant night, Mr. Gibbs ?" the pirate leered.

  


"Aye, what I can remember of it," replied Gibbs, nearly losing his balance as he pulled on his left boot. The Cap'n raised an eyebrow at him. "Well, the floor is so _solid _this mornin'," Gibbs defended himself. "It's far easier to walk on land when one's had enough rum to make it spin a wee bit."

  


"Ye drank enough last night to keep the whole world spinnin' for a week," laughed his companion. "Pull yerself together, man, we have work to do." 

  


"Oh. Aye. The coordinates," remembered Gibbs. He looked around to make sure no one was nearby to overhear. "I'll tell ye true, Jack, I don't think much of kidnappin'."

  


"Don't worry about it," Sparrow said shortly. "We have to go to four different taverns." He rolled his eyes. "Eccentric client, our number one." 

  


Gibbs perked up considerably. "Bit of the hair of the dog..."

  


"No," replied Sparrow. He waved vaguely, made a squeezing motion with his fists. "We have to order... goat's milk." The first mate stared at his captain in horror. 

  


At the Seasick Sea Cow, they sidled up to the bar and asked for goat's milk. "We're all out," said the bartender, much to Gibbs' surprise. 

  


"What, ye serve a lot of the stuff ?" he blurted. 

  


"Twenty pints last night," the bartender replied, giving the Cap'n a significant look. Gibbs shook his head in disbelief.

  


The pirates made three more stops, asking for the bizarre beverage and each time receiving equally bizarre responses. Much to the first mate's relief, everyone was out of goat's milk. "We served twenty-seven pints of goat's milk last night," leered the bartender at the Cheeky Cabin Boy, looking Captain Jack Sparrow up and down appraisingly. "Aye, twenty-seven pints," he repeated, with emphasis, batting his eyelashes. "Had to water it down to make it last."

  


"I think that last tavern was a bit...festive," Mr. Gibbs suggested as they made their way back to the _Black Pearl_. "And I don't understand this business about goat's milk. I thought we was to get coordinates for some island."

  


"Never mind, Mr. Gibbs," said Sparrow, weaving along the pier. "Believe it or not, we have our coordinates. Now we simply have to wait and take delivery of our cargo."

  


"Aye, and then there's that little matter of the kidnappin'," muttered the first mate, giving the captain a dark look. Sparrow pretended to ignore it.

  


That afternoon a strange party boarded the _Black Pearl_; Mr. Alberts, a young girl of perhaps ten or twelve, and four burly slaves carrying an assortment of trunks. A young slave girl brought up the rear. Gibbs frowned. He had never approved of females aboard ship. Well, except for Anamaria. The quartermaster hardly counted as female, though, he thought. Fortunately, these two would not be staying on board.

  


"Mr. Gibbs, the cargo," said Sparrow, indicating the luggage with a mad twinkle in his eye and an expansive wave of his hand. "Mr. Alberts, my first mate Gibbs will personally see to your cargo's safety here aboard the _Pearl_. We will stow it in his own cabin so he can watch over it night and day."

  


"Well, perhaps not at night," Alberts said, trying not to smile. Gibbs and Sparrow exchanged looks. The slaves carried the trunks to Gibbs' cabin, the rest of the group trailing behind. 

  


"This cabin isn't very big," remarked the girl. She sniffed. "It isn't very _clean_, either." Her voice was petulant. Whiny, thought Gibbs. 

  


"Mind yer tongue, missy," he snapped at her, when he thought no one else was listening. "It's not like ye'll be stayin' in it." The girl gave him an odd look.

  


Back on deck, Alberts prepared to make his departure. "It's been a pleasure, Captain Sparrow," he said, again looking as though he was about to break into a grin. "A real pleasure. Safe journey." He waved to the four male slaves to descend the gangplank, then followed them. The girl and the female slave remained on the ship, standing by the railing.

  


Captain Jack Sparrow took in the sight of the two girls. His arms windmilled. "Alberts !" he shouted.

  


The man turned, eyebrows raised slightly. "Was there something else ?"

  


"Weren't ye forgettin' somethin' ?" asked Sparrow, rolling his eyes toward the females.

  


"Um, no." replied Alberts, wearing an expression of mild confusion. His eyes twinkled. "No, I don't believe so."

  


"The girls ?" suggested the pirate captain, his hands sketching vague curves in the air as he jerked his head toward the two standing at the rail of his ship.

  


"Captain Sparrow," Alberts said, grinning openly now, "The girl _is_ the cargo."

  


"What do you mean, the girl ?" Sparrow gasped, stunned. The pirate actually clutched his chest for a moment, as though in pain, then drew a deep breath. "What about all those trunks ?" he stammered.

  


"Just her luggage," said Alberts, as though it should be obvious. "The girl is the cargo."

  


Gibbs had never seen Jack so taken by surprise. The pirate literally staggered back, eyes rolling, mouth agape. It was a sad, sad sight, the first mate thought, shaking his head.

  


Sparrow managed to recover himself enough to keep from toppling completely over. "Fine, ye win. The girl's the cargo." His shoulders slumped. "But just the one girl," he spat.

  


Now Alberts looked genuinely confused. "Yes. One girl," he replied.

  


"I see two girls on me deck," glared the pirate. The slave girl, accustomed to being ignored, hung her head as all eyes turned on her.

  


Alberts chuckled. "Miss Featherstone requires a maid. The girl is part of her luggage."

  


"I 'll have to charge extra for the extra passenger," the Cap'n insisted. 

  


Alberts laughed out loud. "You've been paid handsomely, Captain Sparrow. Don't quibble over one more piece of property." He turned dismissively and walked away. "Jack Sparrow," his voice carried back, contemptuous. "I'd heard he was cunning. Hah."

  


"That's _Captain_ Jack Sparrow !" shouted the pirate, leaping to the rail. Alberts did not look back. The Cap'n stepped down and turned to Gibbs. The first mate, embarrassed for his captain, shook his head again sadly. Sparrow, however, did not seem the least bit chagrined. He smirked at Gibbs, then extended one hand in a courtly gesture to the whiny girl. The whiny girl who had taken over his cabin, thought the first mate, sourly. The Cap'n drew the reluctant girl forward. 

  


"Mr. Gibbs, may I present to you... Miss Jane Featherstone," announced Sparrow. His eyes sparkled with glee. "_Miss Jane Featherstone, the Lieutenant Governor's niece,"_ he added, smirking.

  


Gibbs' jaw dropped. He looked from the Cap'n to the girl, his mind trying to keep up. "Ye knew all along..." he breathed. 

  


Sparrow preened. "Aye, of course. Run along to yer cabin, Miss Featherstone." The two girls retreated. The Cap'n watched them go, then turned his mad Kohl-lined eyes to his first mate. "Now tell me again about yer objections to kidnappin', Mr. Gibbs," he smirked.

  


  


  


  


  



	5. A Cunning Plan

"Well, go on, then, get to yer cabin," said Mr. Gibbs, annoyed. The Cap'n had known all along ! He'd brought females aboard the _Pearl_, and to add insult to injury, stowed them in Gibbs' own cabin. The two girls scurried aft. Gibbs followed them and strode past the jumble of trunks, grabbing his pipe, tobacco, and a few other belongings. He turned and realized the two little females were staring at him. They looked nervous. 

"Well, unpack yer gear," he said, gruffly. He considered. They probably couldn't even lift the smallest of the trunks, working together. Two pairs of frightened eyes watched him as he considered the problem, one pair a striking shade of deep blue, the other pair brown and resigned. The girls were about the same size, surely no more than twelve years old. Miss Jane Featherstone's flawless complexion was pale. She had long straight hair, so dark it was almost black. She might be considered pretty, thought Gibbs, who was no expert in such matters. The young lady wore an elaborate gown of red silk. The little maid, in striking contrast, wore an old, worn dress of some coarse material. Whatever its original color had been, it was now faded to an indeterminate shade of grayish brown. Her hair was hidden under an unattractive bandanna of the same dull material. "I'll send someone in to stow those trunks," the first mate decided, finally. "Ye'll need to stay in here, out of the way, until we're under sail. Oh, and if ye get seasick, I expect ye to clean it up yerselves." They stared at him mutely. "_Ahem_. Well, I got work to do," he said, awkwardly. Mr. Gibbs turned on his heel and relinquished his cabin.

  
  


"They're _pirates_ !" hissed Miss Jane when the sailor with the bushy whiskers had left them alone. "My uncle has handed me over to pirates." She grabbed Dele by the arms, her fingers digging into her, hurting. 

"Please, Miss, your uncle paid them. They'll take you to Jamaica -"

"That's what he wants everyone to believe, you stupid thing." Her eyes stared into Dele's, frightened and angry. "They'll torture me, I know it. To get the location of my father's treasure." Her eyes suddenly grew bright. Abruptly, she pushed her away and turned her back, staring out of the little window. Dele could see her shoulders shaking. Miss Jane was crying. She would slap her if she suspected that Dele had seen.

Dele quickly turned away herself and bustled to the smallest of the trunks. "It will be all right Miss, I'm sure it will," she said, soothingly, trying to hide her own fear and uncertainty. She began to unpack the essentials from Miss Jane's luggage.

  
  


"Hold that parasol higher, you lazy thing. If I get sunburned - "

Mr. Gibbs grimaced as the voice of the lieutenant governor's niece floated up from the main deck two days later. "Females on board," he muttered to himself, careful to pitch his voice low enough so Anamaria wouldn't overhear him. He looked over at the Cap'n. Was he annoyed by the whiny-voiced girl ? The Cap'n paid no attention; he was peering astern through his spyglass. 

"Run back to the cabin and fetch me my shawl. Hurry up ! You are so slow…" 

Gibbs rolled his eyes. He looked over at Anamaria, who was at the helm. She seemed unconcerned. 

"It ain't right," Gibbs muttered.

"Really, must you be so stupid ? I wanted the white shawl. What made you think I'd want that one ? It's too heavy for this weather. Well, what are you waiting for ? Take it back…"

The petulant voice went on and on, grating on Gibbs' nerves. "It ain't right." He looked from Anamaria to Jack and back again. "The way that miniature tyrant orders the poor girl about," he explained, when neither of his companions answered him. "Ye can hear her bullyin' the poor thing all day and half the night. Treats her as though she were her slave."

"The girl is her slave," said Anamaria shortly. 

"Well, it just ain't right," Gibbs repeated.

"Aye Joshamee, I'm aware of that," the quartermaster snapped, losing patience. "Why do ye think I went to sea in the first place ?" she asked, rhetorically.

"It's about time, you stupid thing…Della ! Bring me a glass of water," the whiny voice drifted aft as Miss Jane Featherstone sent her hapless maid scurrying on yet another errand.

"Cap'n -" began Gibbs.

"We're pirates, Mr. Gibbs, remember ?" said Sparrow, putting away his spyglass for the moment. He spread his hands wide, unapologetic. "We _commit _wrongs, we don't right them."

"But, it just...Well, it ain't _right_," the first mate repeated for the fourth time, doggedly.

Captain and quartermaster exchanged looks. "Well, Mr. Gibbs, if yer unhappy with the situation, I suggest ye do somethin' about it," the Cap'n told him.

"Wot, me ?" said Gibbs, surprised at the idea.

"Why not you ?" the Cap'n grinned, gold teeth flashing. 

After an hour or so, during which he smoked his pipe and thought it over, the first mate thought he had it figured out. He was a grown man, not to mention a pirate. Little Lady Jane was a mere chit of a girl. He would simply order her, sternly, to lay off bullying the little slave girl, and she would cower in fear and obey. After all, wasn't that why parents told children stories about pirates in the first place, to frighten them into obedience ?

Accordingly, Mr. Gibbs was only a little bit nervous that evening when he rapped sharply at the door to Jane Featherstone's cabin. _His_ cabin, that she was merely occupying for the moment, he mentally corrected himself. He could hear her spiteful, petulant voice chastising the other girl for being slow to answer the knock. Gibbs strode into the tiny cabin and advanced on the little girl. The top of her head was not even as high as his shoulders. He loomed over her. "_Ahem._ Miss Featherstone," he began, gruffly. "I have somethin' I want to say to ye -"

"And I have something I want to say to you too," snapped the little shrew, apparently unintimidated. Gibb's jaw dropped. Involuntarily, he took a step back. "I'd appreciate it if you would remove your filthy accouterments from my cabin," the female went on. "They are in my way, and," she added, wrinkling her nose, "they stink." The first mate was dumbfounded. This was not going as planned. "Della ! Give Mr. Gibbs his belongings," the girl-tyrant snapped.

The slave handed him a grubby bundle. The pirate peered at it. "These ain't no accouterments," he retorted. "These be me _clothes_." Little Lady Jane turned away dismissively. She was not frightened of the first mate, that was clear. In fact, he was certain she was sneering at him. Gibbs took his garments and beat a hasty retreat.

  
  


  
  


"Filthy pirate," snapped Miss Jane after the man with the bushy sideburns had gone. In spite of herself, her voice shook. Dele could see that she was trembling. They had both been certain he had been coming to take her away.

"Come sit down here, at the dresser, Miss," Dele wheedled, hoping to calm her, "and I'll brush your hair for you."

Miss Jane fidgeted as Dele brushed her hair. "Any minute now, those pirates are going to break down that door and drag me away to be tortured."

"Don't say that, Miss Jane, please," begged Dele. It was likely that they would eventually, she thought to herself, given that she was the only one alive who knew the location of her father's treasure horde. 

"I will say it, because it's true," said the girl, relentlessly. Her eyes, filled with fear and spite, met Dele's in the cracked mirror. "I expect that when they're done with me, they'll torture you too, just for fun." 

That was likely, too, thought Dele, despairing. Later, huddled in her blanket on the floor, she tried to ignore her mistress. Miss Jane tossed and murmured fretfully in her berth. "Eighty-three degrees..." She always talked in her sleep when she was upset. In the six weeks since her mother's death, that had been most nights. The pirates don't know that I know where the treasure is, too, Dele tried to reassure herself. "...at the hanging tree..." Miss Jane ran on. 

"Oh, please," Dele whispered, "_stop it_." She stuck her fingers in her ears and tried to sleep. 

  
  


Mr. Gibbs lay in a borrowed hammock and pondered the problem of the girl. For a while he had been annoyed that he had been unable to carry out his original plan, but further thought had revealed a flaw. He realized that even if he did order little Lady Jane to leave the slave girl alone, she would only take it out on her when his back was turned. He couldn't watch the disagreeable female all the time. No, his original plan would have only made things worse for the little slave.

What was needed was to get her away from the tyrant on some pretext. Without little Lady Jane suspecting her slave was being rescued from her. What was needed was a cunning plan...the type the Cap'n always thought up. In the darkness below deck, Gibbs glowered at the unseen beams above his head. The Cap'n had left it up to him. He, Joshamee Gibbs, would have to be cunning like Cap'n Jack Sparrow.

The next morning, the first mate stood at the helm, a smug expression on his face. "Mornin', Cap'n. Yer lookin' a bit peaky," he commented, as Sparrow climbed down the shrouds to the deck. He had been up in the crow's nest. The Cap'n grunted absently and wove past him, taking up position at the rail. He seemed to spend a lot of time there lately. As Gibbs watched, he took out his spyglass again and peered through it. "Ye don't think we're bein' pursued, do ye, Cap'n ?" asked Gibbs. 

"It's not inconceivable," responded Sparrow. Just then the sound of something breaking came from the first mate's former cabin, followed by a spiteful voice shrieking demands. The Cap'n whirled around, startled, then slouched back against the rail. "Come up with a plan yet, Mr. Gibbs ?"

"Aye," said Gibbs, a grin spreading across his face. "And it's a right cunnin' one, too," he added proudly.

After he was relieved at the helm, Gibbs approached the two females as they walked on deck. He was determined to get the better of Lady Jane this time. "See here, missy," he began. "We've had enough of this. Yer uncle cheated the Cap'n, not payin' for yer maid's passage aboard this fine ship. So she needs to earn her keep, see ?" Little Lady Jane glared at him, less cowed than he had hoped. The little maid, on the other hand, looked terrified. Gibbs glared back at Miss Jane Featherstone and went on, undeterred. "So, I'll just be commandeerin' yer maid, here, to work in the galley," he announced. 

"No," both females gasped, simultaneously. They clasped hands tightly and stared at him, one frightened, one angry. 

"I will not let you take my maid, you miserable pirate," raged Jane Featherstone. "My uncle paid your captain more than this entire rat-infested boat is worth !"

Now that was just too much. "The _Black Pearl _ain't rat infested !" Gibbs roared. His whiskers quivered with outrage. "And she's a _ship_, not some lubber boat !" He was pleased to see Miss Jane back down, her eyes wide. Seizing the advantage, the pirate caught hold of the slave's arm, careful not to hurt her, and said "Come along, missy," in a more normal tone of voice.

"Please, Miss Jane, don't let him take me," sobbed the girl. The two clung to one another.

Feeling rather foolish, the first mate pried her away from her mistress and hustled her off to the galley. Why she'd want to stay with the little shrew was beyond him. "No one's going to harm ye, missy," he muttered when they were out of earshot of the girl-tyrant. She stopped her wailing abruptly and stared at him with big brown eyes. Females. No comprehendin' them, he thought to himself. 

"Here's yer new helper, Cookie," he announced, half-dragging, half-carrying the terrified girl into the galley. "Stop that," he said sharply as she started to wail again. The girl gulped and shut up. "_Ahem_. Good...Yer really better off, ye know," he pointed out.

"Thanks Mr. Gibbs, I'll take it from here," said the cook. 

"Aye. Thank ye kindly, Cookie." _Someone _ought to be thanked for rescuing her, he thought to himself, disgruntled. Ungrateful female. 

  
  


  
  



	6. A Small Knife

"No need to look at me like that. I ain't goin' to hurt you," said the pirate called Cookie. He jerked his head toward a table. "You can peel them onions and chop 'em up, if you want."

Nervously, Dele did as she was told. She had been certain the pirates would hold her feet in the fire, or cut off her ears, or some other, even more horrible torture. She looked at the knife in her hand. Perhaps she could slip it into her pocket when the cook wasn't looking. Though what one little girl armed with a paring knife could hope to do against a boatload of pirates, she didn't know. 

The pirate was watching her. Dele lowered her eyes and concentrated on peeling the pile of onions. After a while, she risked a glance at him. He was stirring a pot of some kind of soup or stew. Cookie was huge. He must be over six feet tall, she thought. Under his faded red shirt, his shoulders bulged with muscles. He wore a yellow bandanna and had a gold hoop through each earlobe. Dele gulped. Gathering her courage, she slipped the knife into her pocket and casually took another out of the block that stood close at hand. She resumed chopping industriously, allowing herself a mental sigh of relief. Intent on seasoning the stew, the pirate cook hadn't seemed to notice. 

Dele wiped her eyes on her sleeve as she finished the last of the onions. The pirate glanced over at her. "Have a seat," he offered, indicating a stool. Dele sat and tried not to fidget. The stolen knife seemed to weigh heavily in her pocket. She supposed that if the other pirates were busy torturing Miss Jane, she would have heard her screams by now. 

Cookie reached into a bin and pulled out two apples. He tossed one to Dele. Startled, she barely caught it. He sat down on a stool across the narrow galley from her and took a bite of his own apple. "Go ahead, break time," he grinned.

"The captain won't mind ?" Dele asked hesitantly.

"Who cares if he does mind ? This is my galley," said Cookie. "Cap'n in charge of the ship, sure, but I run things down here."

Dele looked down at the floor, then back at the cook. His skin was several shades darker than her own. "You...you're not a slave ?" she asked.

Cookie frowned. "I look like a slave to you, girl ?" She cringed. "Don't be givin' me that look," he said, his expression softening. "I don't suppose you know any better. No, I'm no slave. I'm a pirate, same as the rest of the crew of the _Black Pearl_. And that," he added proudly, "is about as free as a man can be."

Dele pondered this for a while. Cookie sat watching her, munching on his apple. "The sailor who brought me here..." Dele began.

"Mr. Gibbs, the first mate," Cookie prompted. "What about him ?"

"He told Miss Jane I had to earn my keep. To...to pay for my passage."

Cookie laughed out loud. "He tell your Missy Jane that so he can get you away from her for a bit. He tired of her yellin' at you all day long." 

"I don't understand," Dele said. The pirate's laughter caught her off guard.

Cookie shook his head. "No, I don't suppose you do," he replied. "Gibbs won't hurt you. Ain't no one goin' to hurt you." He tossed the apple core into a barrel. "What your name, girl ?" he asked suddenly.

Dele hesitated. "Ayodele," she replied, finally. She wondered why she had told the pirate that. "Dele, for short," she added. 

"Ayodele," he repeated. "African name ?" She nodded. It was the name her mother had called her, when they were alone. "My name's Isaac," the cook said. "Everyone calls me Cookie." When Dele didn't respond, he explained. "Because I'm the cook, see ? Real original, huh ?" Dele smiled tentatively. "Well, Dele, there's plenty of work you can help me with. You can go back to your Missy Jane later. She have to manage without you for a while. Deal ?"

Dele smiled shyly at the cook. "Deal," she replied.

Mr. Gibbs stuck his head in the galley later that evening. "Cap'n's broodin' in his cabin," he told Cookie, a worried look on his whiskery face. "Don't know what be botherin' him."

"Dele will take him his dinner, then," said the cook. He gave the first mate a wink. "Dele, you got somethin' you want to say to Mr. Gibbs ?"

"Um, yes sir. Thank you, sir," she said, dropping a curtsy. 

The pirate blushed and looked pleased with himself. "Aye, yer welcome, little missy," he replied. "It were a cunnin' plan, if I do say so meself."

Isaac chuckled. "Take this tray to the Cap'n," he said. "Now, don't you be afraid. Cap'n Jack Sparrow's uncommon gentle, for a pirate." Cook and first mate grinned at each other.

  
  


In spite of Cookie's reassurance, Dele's heart was pounding as she knocked on the door to the Captain's cabin. "Come in," came a call from inside.

The fearsome pirate captain sat with his back to her at a big old desk. The cabin was already in darkness, save for the last golden glow of sunset spilling through the small window. Elaborate candlesticks loaded with half-melted candles stood on the table and desk. Dele set the tray down on the table, avoiding the puddles of melted wax and several empty bottles of rum.

The captain turned and looked at her with his mad, heavily made-up eyes. "Thanks, love," he said lightly, waving at the tray of food. He smiled at her, gold teeth flashing in the candlelight. Then he glanced back at the desk and frowned. "Come here," he said, abruptly, rising to his feet and beckoning to her.

Dele approached the pirate reluctantly, dragging her feet. He didn't seem to notice. He had a scrap of paper in his hand. "Ever seen this before, love ?" he asked, waving the paper under her nose. It was a drawing of a shield with a six-pointed star on it. "The star is blue, shield is gold," Captain Sparrow explained. He pointed to the bottom of the shield. "Maybe some sort of red thingy there, I think." He looked at her expectantly.

Dele didn't know what to say. It occurred to her to lie, but to what purpose ? She didn't know why he was asking in the first place. The pirate raised an eyebrow at her. Beads flashed in the light as he cocked his head expectantly. "Y-yes, sir," she stammered. "Lord Javier Reyes. It's his c-coat of arms." She hesitated. "There's a red castle under the blue star."

"Reyes," the captain breathed. "Spaniard." He nodded to himself, setting the scrap of paper down. He whirled back around suddenly, startling Dele. "One of Maude Featherstone's lovers ?" he asked, shrewdly.

Dele looked at him mutely. She was not about to gossip with a pirate. He seemed to read the answer in her eyes, for he nodded again. Sparrow suddenly appeared to notice that he was looming over her. He stepped back and sprawled in a chair. He folded heavily ringed fingers together and peered at Dele over them. "Ye've been very helpful, love," he said, encouragingly. "Now, how about a skinny fellow with brown hair, bit of a weak chin ? About my height ?"

"That's Miss Jane's uncle, Simon Townsend."

"Ah. Another uncle," the captain mused. "There seem to be several very ruthless men interested in yer young mistress," he commented, looking at her intently.

Including you, Dele thought. She thought of the little knife in her pocket and returned his stare as boldly as she could. The pirate turned to his dinner. He waved a hand toward the door. "Run along, love, there's a good girl," he said dismissively.

  
  


Dele entered Miss Jane's cabin as quietly as she could. Miss Jane was still awake, sitting on the edge of her berth. She ran to Dele and clung to her. "I thought they had killed you," she whispered. The next instant, she pushed Dele away. "I suppose you think it's funny, me sitting here worried sick about you while you lounged about all day," she snapped.

"No, Miss," insisted Dele. "I was worried about you, too."

"Not likely," the other girl replied shortly, and threw herself down in her berth. Dele lay awake for a long time after Miss Jane had fallen asleep, listening to her recite the directions to the treasure cache.


	7. Bad Luck

For the next two days, while Miss Jane brooded in her cabin alone, Dele worked in the galley and observed the pirates. What she saw amazed her. The crew ranged from palest sun-burned blond to darker even than Cookie, and they were all, every man of them, free. And one of them was a woman.

"Charlie. These lines are a mess. Didn't I tell ye to get this cleaned up ?" Dele loitered along the rail, eavesdropping. She couldn't help it. The sight of a woman - one whose skin was as dark as her own - giving orders to a white man, was just too good to pass up.

"Ay, ay, Anamaria. I'll get right to it. Sorry 'bout that," The sailor named Charlie replied cheerfully. Dele gaped, looking from him to the woman and back again. Anamaria caught her eye and winked. Dele hastily turned away and fled for the galley.

Later the next day, Cookie asked her to cut up some salt pork. Salt pork was a staple food at sea, and Dele had already learned to despise it. It was tough as leather. She cut at the big chunk of meat ineffectually. Cookie bustled about the tiny galley, stoking the fire in the stove. Suddenly he stood next to her. "Got that pork ready yet, girl ?"

She was nowhere near finished. Dele cringed, expecting a shouted insult or a slap. Instead, Cookie simply pulled a knife from the block and helped her finish the job. As she worked alongside him, Dele's hands trembled.

"Ayodele." The huge pirate waited until her eyes reluctantly met his. He looked at her sadly. "You been a big help to me. Now why you think I'm goin' to repay that by hurtin' you ?" Dele looked away. Her eyes filled with tears. It had been so long since anyone had treated her with kindness. Cookie seemed to understand. He patted her shoulder. "Go on," he said gently. "You go take a break. Come on back when it time to serve this slop to the crew."

Dele really didn't know what to think. She had spent her first three days aboard the _Black Pearl_ expecting to be tortured and killed at any moment. Then the whiskery pirate, Gibbs, had gone out of his way to be kind to her. And the cook treated her with gentleness and respect. Dele felt tears begin again and wiped them away. She looked across the deck to where the captain stood at the helm. Some of his crew might indeed be kind, to her, Dele thought. That didn't mean they were going to be kind to Miss Jane when they finally decided to make her tell them where her father's treasure was hidden. Or to me, if they even suspect that I know where it is too, she reminded herself.

That evening, Dele loitered on deck until she was so tired she could barely keep her eyes open. She couldn't help but feel sorry for Miss Jane, alone and frightened, not knowing if she would live or die at the pirates' hands. But feeling sorry for Miss Jane didn't make her any easier to deal with. She seemed to save up all of her terror and spite to unleash on Dele the minute she returned to the cabin. Last night Miss Jane had thrown things and shouted insults until Dele had wanted to shake her. She didn't expect things to go any better tonight.

Dele slid the door to the cabin open quietly, hoping against hope that Miss Jane would already be asleep. No such luck. Miss Jane was wide awake and in a rage. She grabbed Dele by the arms. "Enjoying yourself with the pirates ?" she hissed.

"No, Miss," she said, resignedly. "You're tired, Miss Jane. So am I. Please, let's just go to sleep."

"Tired ? Why should you be tired ? Lounging about all day, you lazy thing." Miss Jane glared at her, then flounced to the dresser and sat down in the chair in front of Gibbs' old, cracked mirror. "Brush my hair, it's a mess. And don't pull," she snapped. Dele sighed inwardly and picked up the brush.

"I said, don't pull, stupid," the girl snapped again an instant later.

"I'm sorry, Miss," Dele said automatically.

Miss Jane snatched the hairbrush out of Dele's hand and flung it with all her strength at the mirror, which shattered. "You will be sorry, when the pirates are having their fun with you," she shouted. Dele flinched. She just wanted Miss Jane to shut up and go to bed. Miss Jane stood, her arms crossed over her chest. "Well, don't just stand there. Clean this mess up," she ordered.

Dele stared at her mistress. The faces of the pirates flashed through her mind. Mr. Gibbs, Anamaria, Cookie. The mad captain with his beaded braids. "No," she said, in a voice that seemed to come from someone else.

Jane gaped at her, then stamped her foot, nearly cutting herself on the shards of broken glass that littered the top of the dresser and the floor. "I said, clean it up," she said again, louder.

Dele's voice remained quiet. She was sure of herself now. "No. You made the mess, you clean it up."

Jane advanced on her. "You seem to have forgotten your place." Her voice, filled with spite, grated on Dele's nerves. Dele realized that she wasn't frightened at all. "I think I need to teach you a lesson," Jane spat, raising her hand to slap her slave.

"No." Dele said again. She knocked Jane's hand away. "I've already learned a lesson. One that I really needed to know."

Jane stared at her, too enraged to speak. She rushed at Dele, grabbed for her. But Dele had had enough. She seized Jane's hand. With her other hand, she slapped Jane's face, hard. The girl's eyes blazed with anger. She didn't back down, but grabbed again, catching hold of Dele's shoulder. Dele drew back her hand and slapped Jane again, putting all of her pent up rage into the blow. Jane fell to the floor, sobbing and screaming incoherently. It wasn't until then that Dele realized that she too was screaming and crying. With an effort, she stopped herself. Dele sank down amid the broken glass, exhausted.

Mr. Gibbs was on deck, smoking his pipe. He wasn't tired enough to go below deck to the borrowed hammock just yet. Suddenly, a resounding crash came from his cabin, followed by screams of outrage. "The mirror," Gibbs muttered. "That's definitely bad luck." Seven years bad luck, if you broke a mirror, the first mate remembered. A mirror aboard ship, broken by females. For an instant, he tried to calculate just how much additional bad luck those two factors added to the equation. A moment later, the first mate realized that both girls were screaming. By then he was pelting down the narrow stairs to the passageway. He nearly ran over the Cap'n, who was coming up the passage from his own cabin. Incoherent shouts and the sounds of a scuffle came from behind the door. The first mate reached for the handle.

Sparrow stopped him with a hand on his wrist. "Bad luck, Mr. Gibbs," he cautioned, brown eyes twinkling. "Very, very bad luck to interrupt a cat fight."

"But, Cap'n, little Della has a knife," Gibbs blurted. "Cookie told me. I'm afraid she'll kill the other girl !"

The Cap'n shook his head, beaded strands of hair swaying. He put one finger to his lips and rolled his eyes toward the door. Mr. Gibbs realized that the sounds of battle had ceased while they stood arguing. Cautiously, the first mate pressed an ear to the door. Unable to resist, Sparrow followed suit, kneeling. The two pirates heard muffled sobs, and then, above them, the voice of the little maid. "There, there. Everything's going to be all right," she said in soothing tones.

Mr. Gibbs' eyes, wide with amazement, met those of his captain. The Cap'n seemed to be fighting to hold back laughter. "Come on, Mr. Gibbs," he beckoned, rising to his feet and weaving toward his cabin. "Ye look as though ye could use a good stiff drink."

"Well," muttered Gibbs, following Sparrow. "If that don't beat all."

Dele crawled across the floor, ignoring the broken glass. She put her arms around Jane. "There, there," she murmured. "Everything's going to be all right."

"I'm s-sorry," sobbed the girl, clinging to her. "I'm just so s-scared."

"There, there. Hush."

"Don't leave me," Jane begged. Her sobs were subsiding to hiccups.

"Hush. Everything will be all right. I'm not going to leave you." Dele wiped the tears from her own eyes. "Come on, get some sleep. We'll sort things out in the morning." The two girls staggered across the cabin and collapsed across the narrow berth. Dele fell asleep almost instantly. If Jane Featherstone talked in her sleep, for once it didn't wake either of them.


	8. Pursuit

Mr. Gibbs slouched against the rail, taking up the space that the Cap'n had occupied for most of the past week. He smoked his pipe, keeping one eye on the horizon stretching out behind the _Black Pearl_. Neither of the two girls had made an appearance on deck this morning. No sounds emerged from the cabin. Gibbs could only hope that they were busy cleaning up the mess they'd made of the place last night. He peered back across the waves. There was nothing there. No, wait. Gibbs squinted. Birds ? Clouds ? Suddenly, he turned and waved to a sailor up in the rigging. "Taylor ! Ye see that ?" he pointed.

"Ay, Mister Gibbs, sails !"

"Go call the Cap'n !"

Cap'n Sparrow appeared on deck a few moments later, clutching his spyglass. He strode to the rail and took a look. "Funny, ain't it, Cap'n," said Gibbs, smirking.

Sparrow turned to look at his first mate. "Wot's that ?" he replied, bemused.

"Well, here ye've been lookin' for that ship for a week now, and I just spotted it while ye were layin' late abed." Gibbs grinned from ear to ear. The Cap'n's eyes looked a bit bloodshot. They had put away a fair quantity of rum last night. Sparrow returned to peering through the spyglass. Gibbs chuckled, risked another jibe. "Some of us don't hold our likker as well as others, I suppose."

The Cap'n turned, arms spread wide. He pointed an imperious finger at Gibbs. "Nobody likes a braggart, Joshamee," he chided.

"Sorry, Cap'n," Gibbs hid another smirk. "So, any guesses as to who be pursuin' us ?" he asked. 

"No, Mr. Gibbs, no guesses at all," replied Sparrow. Before the first mate could respond, he went on. "No guesses, because I _know_. A Spaniard. Lord Javier Reyes." Now it was Cap'n Sparrow's turn to smirk.

"Who's that ?" asked Gibbs, his brow furrowed. 

"Ah, for the sake of argument, let's just call him number three," said Sparrow enigmatically. He waved a hand toward the main deck. Gibbs turned to look. The two little females had emerged. They approached now with evident purpose, holding hands. Gibbs could see from the set of their shoulders that the two meant business. He glanced at his captain.

"Ah. I don't like that look they're givin' us," Sparrow murmured. "Seen that one a few times before."

"Aye, me too," said Gibbs, darkly.

"You, Mr. Gibbs ?" the Cap'n raised an eyebrow, surprised. He spread his hands. "Wot woman would have cause to give ye a look like that ?"

The first mate looked down, suddenly interested in the boards of the deck. He shifted uneasily. "Well, Gibbs ?" the Cap'n inquired.

Gibbs glared at Sparrow. "Missus Gibbs," he said, shortly.

Sparrow's kohl-rimmed eyes widened in surprise. In all the years he'd known Gibbs, the man had never mentioned a wife. The captain wisely kept his mouth shut. The girls had reached the railing. 

"Mornin', ladies," Gibbs said sheepishly. They didn't answer. He saw little Della give Miss Jane an encouraging look. She pushed the girl another step toward Cap'n Sparrow. The girl-tyrant took a deep breath. 

"Captain Sparrow," she began, haughtily. "What do you intend to do with me ? I must know." She stared at the Cap'n belligerently. Gibbs noticed that she gripped Della's hand tightly in her own.

The Cap'n leaned back against the rail and met the girl's stare with a dazzling smile. "Do with ye, love ? Why, nothin', Miss Featherstone. Ye should know by now I mean ye no harm."

The little tyrant glared. "Stop this charade. You are no doubt aware that I am the only person alive who knows where my father hid his treasure. You are a pirate. I know you want the gold." She lifted her chin. Della put her arm around her. "Do you intend to torture me ? I warn you, I won't tell, no matter what you do." Her voice shook, just a bit. Della looked frightened, but determined. The Cap'n's eyes widened, impressed by the girls' courage. "Go ahead," Miss Jane challenged. "Go ahead and try. I want to get this over with."

Cap'n Jack Sparrow laughed out loud. The two girls flinched but stood their ground. Gibbs felt a sudden, foreign urge to comfort the females. They truly believed that Jack planned to torture them. The pirate captain shook his head. He leaned down and spoke directly to Miss Jane, his voice serious, although his eyes twinkled and a smile seemed about to break free. "Miss Featherstone, I appreciate the offer, but I really don't think it's necessary for me to torture ye."

She glared at him, affronted that the pirate was not taking her seriously. "I promise you, it will do you no good to try. I will never divulge my father's secret."

Sparrow stood back. He examined the nails on one hand with great interest. "Really, love, I don't know who's been tellin' ye I torture little girls, but I assure ye, that's not a hobby I plan to take up any time soon." His eyes met the girl's again. "Since ye asked what I intend to do, I'll tell ye. Yer Uncle Simon hired us to kidnap ye. We rendezvous with him in less than a week's time." 

Jane Featherstone gasped. Sparrow held up a hand, forestalling comment. "So, love, as I see it, ye have two choices. Ye can help yer dear uncle find daddy's treasure, in which case I'll just wait until ye're done, and steal it from him." The Cap'n preened, oblivious to the girl's rising fury at his words. "Or," he added, "in case ye don't want to help yer uncle..." he paused, shaking his head regretfully. "Ye know, he didn't seem like a very nice man, beggin' yer pardon, love. I know he's family and all." He grinned at little Lady Jane, gold teeth flashing. 

"In case I don't wish to help my uncle..." Miss Jane prompted, her voice shaking with anger now instead of fear.

"Well, then, love, ye can help me," said Sparrow, bowing to her. "Lead me to the treasure, and I'll give ye a fair share, just as though ye were one of me own crew. Both of ye," he added, sketching a small bow to Della.

"A fair share," shrieked Lady Jane. Both pirates involuntarily flinched away from the furious female. "_A fair share ! _ That entire treasure is rightfully mine !"

The Cap'n recovered quickly. He drew himself up to his full height and assumed a pedantic air. "Really, Miss Featherstone," he chided, shaking a finger at her. "That gold rightfully belongs to the poor innocent souls yer father stole it from in the first place." He folded his hands as though in prayer for the gentleman pirate Featherstone's poor, innocent victims. His eyes sparkled with mirth. "Terrible, black-hearted pirate that he was," he added piously, struggling to keep a straight face.

Miss Jane was not impressed by Cap'n Sparrow's sudden display of morals. She stamped her foot. "I will not help you find the treasure," Jane screamed. "I won't help anyone find it ! It's mine !"  


Della sidled away from little Lady Jane. The girl-tyrant didn't need her support any longer, thought Gibbs. He beckoned to the girl. She stepped closer to him. He raised his eyebrows at her. She shrugged. They waited with interest to see how the conflict would end.

Sparrow was laughing openly, which did nothing to calm Miss Jane's temper. Gibbs and the maid exchanged another look. Both were sure she was going to try and slap the Cap'n. "Miss Featherstone," Sparrow said, grinning, "scream at me all ye like. That won't change the fact that it all comes down to what ye can do, or in this case, what ye can't do." He jabbed a finger toward her. "Ye can't get the treasure by yerself, and ye surely can't keep the treasure. If that were possible, yer mother would have done so."

Miss Jane fell silent. She looked at the Cap'n grudgingly. He nodded at her. "If ye want to see any of that gold, love, ye'll tell me where it is. I'll make sure ye get yer fair share of it, and take ye back to Jamaica, or Hispaniola, or whatever port ye want to go to." 

Jane Featherstone seemed about to reply, but the pirate had turned away, distracted. He spun back around, one hand waving back at the rapidly-approaching Spanish vessel. "It's all a bit of a moot point right now, love," he commented. "Ye see, I'm afraid Lord Reyes has his own ideas about who's to get their hands on all that lovely gold." At the mention of Reyes' name, the girl stepped back, her eyes wide. Della ran to her and held her tightly. 

"Gibbs, take the helm," ordered the Cap'n. "All hands on deck !" he bellowed. "The Spaniard's ship will be in firin' range within the hour." 


	9. Battle

Pointless but mandatory disclaimer: I don't claim to own any of the original material from the movie "Pirates of the Caribbean", obviously. "Cry 'havoc,' and let slip the dogs of war" is Shakespeare. 

  
  


  
  


Mr. Gibbs stood at the helm, watching the Cap'n stride back and forth across the deck, arms waving, giving orders. The crew were armed to the teeth. Cannons were ready. Gibbs caught Anamaria's eye and grinned. The battle would be close, he suspected. His heart was pounding already. Anamaria grinned back. She had a brace of pistols and two daggers in her belt and a cutlass in her hand. Any Spaniard with half a brain would think twice before tangling with her, thought Gibbs admiringly. Gibbs himself had a dagger stuffed in his belt. He would have to rely on his fellow crew mates to protect him if the _Black Pearl_ was boarded. His job was to steer the ship, evading the enemy's cannons as best he could. There were shoals nearby, he noted. Good, that could work to their advantage.

The Cap'n paced. Suddenly, he seemed to remember the two girls. He swooped over, bent down and said something quietly to them, patting little Della on the shoulder. They nodded in unison, then hurried below. "Cookie," yelled Sparrow. The big cook stepped forward. "Keep the girls safe in the galley. No doubt Reyes would like to steal our cargo." He turned and winked at Mr. Gibbs, who rolled his eyes. He still hadn't quite forgiven the Cap'n for that little deception.

"Ay, ay, Cap'n Sparrow," said Cookie, and hastened away to the galley. 

The Spanish ship was much closer now. Sparrow peered through his spyglass. "Reyes has had her stripped, nothin' aboard but the bare necessities," Sparrow mused.

"Aye, and bloody big cannons," added Gibbs. As he spoke, the pursuing ship fired. The shot fell short and far to starboard. Gibbs snorted. "Bit optimistic about the range, ain't they." The crew jeered at the Spanish vessel.

"Let's not present them with a bigger target than we have to, Mr. Gibbs," reminded Sparrow with a cocky smile. Gibbs grinned back at his captain.

Within minutes, the Spanish ship had closed with the _Pearl_. Gibbs peered at her prow. "_Ven-gan-za_," he sounded out laboriously. "Wonder what that means." 

The Cap'n shrugged. "No hablo espanol," he commented carelessly. Whirling about, he signaled the gunners. "Fire," he shouted. The two ships exchanged cannon fire. The cannons thundered and smoke rolled across the decks. Volley after volley crossed with little effect to either ship. Gibbs steered the _Pearl_ close to the shoals, hampering the _Venganza's_ ability to maneuver to get a better shot at her. The Spaniards didn't want to risk running their ship aground any more than he did. 

"They're gonna try their best to board, Cap'n," Gibbs remarked. Sparrow fidgeted beside him. His feet danced an impromptu jig across the deck. 

"Aye, it'll come to that." The Cap'n didn't seem the least bit worried. On the contrary, he was as excited as the rest of his crew. He cocked a pistol and grinned at the first mate. "Let 'em board, I could use a bit of sword practice." Another volley of cannon fire burst forth. The pirates felt an impact. The _Pearl _had been hit, but so had the _Venganza_. Both crews shouted taunts and insults at one another. Up in the rigging, Mr. Cotton made a rude gesture at the Spaniards. The language barrier was no deterrent, thought Gibbs with pride. 

  
  


  
  


In the galley, Cookie gave orders of his own in a calm voice. "Dele, make sure the fire's out." He flashed her a smile. "No point in settin' the ship on fire. Janie, stow them pots and pans under there. That's right, in the cupboard there." Dele realized he was trying to keep their minds off the battle. The _Black Pearl _shuddered as a shot from the _Venganza_ impacted. Jane gasped and Dele bit back a cry of fear.

Shouts followed. Pistol shots rang out. Cookie stepped into the passageway for a moment. He returned to the galley and gave the girls an encouraging grin, drawing his cutlass. "They're boarding," he commented.

"That is not particularly encouraging news," snapped Jane. Dele hugged her.

"Everythin' gonna be fine," Cookie soothed. He fidgeted. Dele imagined the big pirate would rather be on deck in the thick of battle. A moment later, footsteps thudded up the passage. Cookie leapt out. The girls could hear a flurry of activity, ending in a thud. Cookie stepped back into the galley. Nonchalantly, he picked up a dish towel and wiped blood off the blade of his sword, keeping one eye on the passageway. Jane and Dele clung to one another. 

  
  


  
  


On deck, the crew of the _Black Pearl _fought like madmen. Which is what most of 'em were, thought Gibbs, his heart filled with pride. He spun the wheel expertly. The _Pearl_ heeled over, hard to port. Cannon shot dropped harmlessly into the water. The _Venganza_ closed again, more Spaniards swinging across from her rigging. Pistol shots rang out. Taylor and Charlie stood to either side, fighting off any Spaniards who dared to encroach on Gibbs' territory at the helm. Sailors from both ships swarmed across the deck. Mr. Cotton's parrot swooped overhead. "Cry havoc," the parrot squawked. 

Gibbs saw the Cap'n cross swords with a Spaniard in a gold-trimmed blue coat. The Cap'n of the _Venganza_, Gibbs supposed. The man was armed with a magnificent basket-hilt longsword. The Cap'n's own blade was shorter, but he had the longer reach. The first mate watched them size one another up before his attention was distracted by a pistol shot that narrowly missed his head. He peered through the smoke and attended to his duty at the helm. 

  
  


  
  


Captain Jack Sparrow leapt into the path of the swarthy man in the fancy blue coat. His shoulder-length black hair hung in elaborate ringlets. The man sneered at Sparrow. He sported a well-groomed mustache and goatee. The pirate captain gave him a mocking salute, raising his sword. In a moment, they crossed blades. 

Both men circled, each sizing up the other's skill. The Spaniard slashed. Sparrow parried easily, thrust with his own blade, stepped back. The Spaniard parried, batting the pirate's blade aside almost casually. They circled again. Sparrow feinted, then closed suddenly, striking with all his strength. The Spaniard parried just in time. Metal screeched against metal as the two blades locked. The pirate and his adversary stood face to face, each struggling to disarm the other. 

Idly, Cap'n Jack noticed the heavy gold signet ring on his opponent's hand. Carved shield, blue six-pointed star. Little red thingamajig that might, given the chance for closer inspection, prove to be a castle. "Javier Reyes, I presume," he greeted the Spaniard with a cocky grin, gold-capped teeth flashing. Nonplussed, Reyes stepped back, releasing Sparrow's blade from his own. "Lousy disguise back in Del Rio, Reyes," the pirate taunted. "Saw through it right away." 

Reyes shouted orders to his crew in Spanish, unintelligible to the pirate. Sparrow took the opportunity to glance around him at the battle before Reyes closed for a second attack. A number of Spanish sailors lay dead or wounded on the deck. He saw Anamaria stab a hapless Spaniard with her cutlass, screaming like a Valkyrie. The Spaniards seemed to be making an attempt to get into the stern cabins, no doubt looking for the girl. Sparrow laughed in Reyes' face as they exchanged another flurry of blows. "Looks like yer crew's losin', mate. Savvy ? Pity I don't know how to tell ye that in yer own lingo."

Reyes never lost his sneer. "I speak perfect English, Mister Sparrow," he said with just a trace of an accent, "and the battle is far from over." He slashed violently and the pirate was forced to fall back, parrying desperately.

"That's _Captain_ Sparrow," he replied pointedly, pride intact despite the sneaking suspicion that he was just a bit outmatched by the Spanish nobleman. 

Cotton's parrot flapped overhead. "Let slip the dogs of war," the bird shrieked, dropping a semi-liquid volley. Sparrow narrowly dodged Reyes' blade and the parrot's missile. He threw back his head and laughed with delight as parrot poop splattered the front of the Spaniard's lovely blue coat. Reyes' face darkened in fury. He lunged at Sparrow, who scampered out of the way. Just then, the _Black Pearl _gave a lurch.

  
  


More footsteps pounded down the passageway. Shots were fired, echoing painfully in the enclosed space. Dele was sprayed with wood chips as a ball lodged in the beam right beside her. She screamed.   
  
Cookie stood in the doorway, his sword a blur as he fought. Dele caught a confused glimpse of at least two faces in the passage beyond. One fell back with a cry as Cookie stabbed at him. The other leapt into his place, thrusting forward with a wickedly sharp long sword. Cookie retreated, bleeding from a slash across his chest. The young Spanish sailor pressed forward. 

Dele gripped a butcher knife tightly in her hand. There was no room to help Cookie, even if she had dared to try. Jane was pressed against the wall, right next to the Spaniard. Her eyes were wide with fear. Cookie rushed forward again, desperate to drive the young man back into the passage. Despite his size, he was outmatched. The Spaniard had obviously had some formal training in the use of a sword. He thrust, opening a fresh wound in the big pirate's arm. Cookie fell back again without a sound. He ignored his wounds, his eyes locked on his opponent, looking for an opening. 

The Spaniard strode into the galley, confident. Dele watched in amazement as Jane swung a cast-iron skillet with all her strength at the back of the sailor's head. A dull gong-like ringing occurred as the skillet met his skull, and he dropped like a stone. Cookie spared the girl a grateful look before stepping forward again. 

The entire ship shuddered and groaned as yet another Spanish sailor stepped into the doorway, pistol at the ready. Cookie staggered at the ship's impact, then lunged viciously, stabbing the sailor through completely, but not before the pistol fired. Jane and Dele screamed at the same instant as blood suddenly covered Jane's chest. The girl stared down at herself, dumbfounded, as the front of her red gown became sodden with darker red. Cookie moaned and fell to his knees.

  
  


On deck, a Spanish sailor took aim, shooting Charlie from behind as he stood at Gibbs' side. The pirate was dead before his body hit the deck. The sailor rushed at Gibbs. The first mate ignored the battle raging around him, intent on his duty. Taylor whirled, striking out with his dagger, but not before the Spaniard managed to hit Gibbs in the back of the head with the butt of his pistol. The first mate reeled, frantically clutching the helm. Oily blackness, shot through with shimmers of color, rolled across his vision as he clung to consciousness. Taylor and the Spaniard grappled, falling and rolling across the deck. The wheel spun as Gibbs' fingers slipped off, unable to obey his brain's desperate command to hold her steady. The _Black Pearl _gave a tremendous shudder as she ran aground. Then blackness covered everything as Gibbs keeled over on the deck.

  
  


  



	10. Surrender

Javier Reyes and Jack Sparrow were flung together as the _Black Pearl _suddenly ground to a halt on the sea bed. Reyes shoved the pirate away from him. Jack staggered across the unmoving deck, eyes rolling to the helm. His first mate, a Spaniard, and two of his crew lay there, apparently dead. The rest of the sailors battled on. Reyes was screaming orders to his crew. Those who could still stand began to retreat to the _Venganza_. Dimly, Jack supposed they should pursue them. Instead, he wove to the helm to check on his fallen men. 

  
  


In the galley, Dele heard the sounds of fighting fade. She tore strips of cloth from her skirt, then wavered. Cookie took a bandage from her and pushed her toward Jane. "Take care of the girl," he ordered. 

Jane's breath was ragged, but she was breathing. Relieved, Dele took a deep breath. "Somebody, help !" she shouted.

  
  


They brought the wounded to an impromptu surgery in Cap'n Jack Sparrow's cabin. The _Black Pearl _had neither a real surgery nor a real surgeon. They did the best they could. Cookie, Taylor, and some of the others needed medical attention. Two of the sailors served as medics, bandaging their crew mates' wounds.

Sparrow knelt over Gibbs. He was still unconscious, but his pulse seemed strong enough. Sparrow pulled up one eyelid, peered into the unresponsive orb. He patted the first mate's cheeks, gently at first, then slapped him soundly several times. "Come on, wakey, wakey, Gibbs. Ye big faker," he said, loudly. There was no reaction. The captain shrugged, forcing worry for his friend to the back of his mind. There was nothing more to be done for the man. He would either wake up, or not. Meanwhile, there were the other wounded, and Javier Reyes to think about. The captain of the _Venganza_ would demand their surrender any minute. Sparrow racked his brain, desperately trying to come up with a plan.

"Cap'n, come take a look," Anamaria called. She held a bloody rag, soaked in rum, as she stood over his own berth, where they'd deposited the wounded girl. 

They were using a lot of rum, cleaning wounds with it. Cryin' shame, the Cap'n thought absently. He stumbled across the cabin, weaving around the wounded lying on the floor. "How is she ?" he asked Anamaria. Della hovered nearby, listening anxiously for the woman's reply.

The quartermaster had stripped off Jane's blood-soaked clothing. She had pulled a sheet up to her chin for modesty, not that it really mattered. The girl had barely been conscious when they had carried her in. Anamaria had forced a cup of rum down her, and now she lay completely unaware of the activity going on around her. 

"She's alive, Jack. I'd say it's a miracle. Wot do ye think ?" She pulled down the sheet enough to reveal the ragged hole, just under the girl's collarbone, on the left side. Sparrow shrugged again. He knew no more about medicine than Anamaria. She had already cleaned the wound. The woman just wanted a second opinion, he supposed. The blood welled up sluggishly; once Anamaria got a bandage on Jane Featherstone, it seemed she would survive. "Missed the bones completely, don't ye think ?" the woman asked.

"Aye, lucky girl, our Miss Jane," he remarked. "Luckier still if the shot had missed her entirely." He turned to Della. "Can ye take care of bandagin' her, love ? I need to meet with me officers." The girl nodded assent. Anamaria rolled her eyes. The meeting would consist of her and Sparrow, the remaining officer being passed out cold on the floor. The irony was lost on Della.

Anamaria followed Sparrow on deck, staggering a bit. The entire crew was weaving and stumbling like their captain, unaccustomed to the decks of the _Pearl _being motionless. "Reyes is goin' to demand we hand over the girl to him," he began.

"Aye," the quartermaster replied. "Ye'll have to do it. With the _Pearl_ run aground, ye've got no choice." They stood silently for a moment, watching the crew unceremoniously dump Spanish bodies into the water. 

"Maybe we can have her write out the directions for him instead. Any idea when she might wake up, Anamaria ?"

"Gave her enough rum to keep her quiet until tomorrow mornin', at least," the female pirate replied. 

Sparrow rubbed the bridge of his nose. They really needed to hire on a ship's surgeon. If there was any other medicine than the copious application of rum, both inside and out, he thought, his crew certainly didn't know of it. He tried to salvage his idea. "Maybe I could write out some directions, claim the girl gave 'em to me..." his voice trailed off as Anamaria gave him a skeptical look. "Well, we do have the coordinates. That's a start," he protested.

"And that's all ye have, not to mention I hardly think yer writin' could pass for that of an educated lady."

Sparrow's eyes widened in reproach. He pressed his hand against his heart. "Ye wound me, love. How can ye pass judgment on me writin' skills ?" He turned away as two of the crew approached, muttering under his breath, "seein' as ye can neither read nor write yerself."

"This one's alive, Cap'n," called Williams. He and another sailor supported a young Spaniard between them. The man's hands were bound behind him. He groaned softly as they pushed him forward. "Found him in the galley." Williams grinned. "Cookie says little Lady Jane brained him with a fryin' pan." 

  
  


The pirate captain frowned. He was still trying to think of a plan, any plan. "Maybe we can use him as a hostage," he began.

Anamaria snorted. "I doubt it. Do ye really think Reyes is the type to care about the life of one younker, when there's a treasure at stake ?"

Sparrow cast her another reproachful look. "Yer just a ray of sunshine, ain't ye, love ?" He sighed, spread his hands in defeat. "It was a thought. Put our prisoner in the brig, Williams."

Anamaria patted his arm sympathetically. "Ye just don't have a choice." She turned away resolutely. "Do what ye have to do, Jack. I'm goin' to check on Gibbs." 

  
  


  
  


As expected, Javier Reyes demanded they surrender within the hour. He declined to come aboard the _Pearl_, choosing to stand arrogantly in a little boat rowed by four of his remaining men. "Hand over the girl, or I will blow your ship out of the water," he called. Sparrow squinted at him. The sun was setting. It appeared that Reyes had either had his coat cleaned awfully quickly, or had put on another exactly like it. He was spotless, every hair in place. The _Venganza_ stood off, her guns aimed broadside at the _Pearl_. Jack adjusted his hat at a more jaunty angle. He felt scruffy, looking at the immaculate Spanish lord and his ship bristling with cannons.

"What's to stop ye from blowin' us out of the water, if I do hand over the girl ?" he called back. "Seems I'd be better off to keep her right here, don't ye think ?"

The Spaniard laughed. "I am not a stupid man, Sparrow. You hope to wait me out until the tide rises and your ship floats free." He paused for a moment to cast a fresh sneer at the pirate. "I will blow you to Davy Jones' locker if the girl is not delivered within the hour. Do not think to test me. You will find that I am a man of my word."

Sparrow ground his teeth in frustration as the Spaniard was rowed back to his own ship. He didn't even bother to call out a clever retort. In two or three hours, the _Black Pearl_ would float off the shoal. In the meantime, though, Reyes held all the cards. He would stand off and fire those bloody big cannons at the _Pearl _until she was nothing but driftwood.

How to buy time ? Sparrow thought of plan after plan, discarded them all as useless. The black row of cannon ports along the _Venganza_ mocked him. _'There's nothin' ye can do,'_ they seemed to say. 

He returned to his cabin, calling for the crew to join him. They crowded into the little room. "We have to give Reyes the girl," he conceded, pointing to Jane Featherstone, passed out on his berth. "We'll stall as long as we can. I don't suppose his lordship can blame her for bein' unable to chat with him just now," he added, unconvincingly. The little maid, Della, stared at him from her seat on the cabin floor next to the berth. Her lip trembled.

"You can't give her to Reyes," she said, desperately. "Look at her. She's wounded. And...and, he'll kill her, won't he ?" Cookie patted her shoulder. 

Sparrow shook his head, closing his eyes briefly. "I'm sorry, love. If I don't, we'll all be dead." He sighed. His kohl-rimmed eyes, usually sparkling, held defeat. "Jane is a clever girl. If she tells Reyes just a bit of information at a time, he'll keep her alive." The words sounded hollow, even to him. "We'll go after them, rescue her," he promised. 

The maid took a deep breath. "I'll go," she whispered. Sparrow shook his head dismissively, negating the offer. 

"No, I'll go," she repeated, her voice stronger. "You see, I...I know where the treasure is, too." Dele felt the eyes of the entire crew on her. 

Sparrow knelt down next to her. He stared into her eyes for a long moment. "Are ye sure, love ?"

She nodded. "I've listened to her repeat it over often enough. But Jane doesn't know. She...she talks in her sleep."

Sparrow chuckled, then frowned. His eyes rolled to the ceiling beams. "I still don't like it. If there were any other way..." he mused softly. Then the pirate turned to Anamaria, suddenly animated. Almost imperceptibly, the crew began to perk up. The Cap'n was thinking on his feet again. "Little Della is a bit underdressed for a meetin' with the high an' mighty Lord Reyes, don't ye think, me love ? Run along down to Gibbs' cabin with her and help her get into somethin' more suitable."

Anamaria glowered at him. "I ain't no lady's maid."

The pirate winked at Dele. "Right ye are, love. And Della's no lady. But we're goin' to pass her off as one." In a moment, he had gotten his old familiar cockiness back. "We're goin' to buy as much time as we can." His eyes roamed across the cabin, meeting those of his crew, boosting morale by the sheer force of his personality. "The rest of ye stay below, out of sight. No lights. Come on, Anamaria, the girl will need help with her corset...petticoat...whatever." He waved his arms, sketching impossible curves in the air.

Anamaria got to her feet. "Come on then," she said gruffly to Dele. They retreated to Gibbs' cabin. In a surprisingly short time, the quartermaster had helped Dele into one of Jane's gowns, complete with the full complement of petticoats and assorted underpinnings. She stood back and surveyed her handiwork. "Ye look...nice," the pirate said appraisingly. "Take off that kerchief. That's better. Got any gloves ?" 

Dele rummaged in the dresser Jane had appropriated for herself. It felt odd to be wearing so many layers. Jane Featherstone's clothes fit her almost perfectly, though. The shoes were way too tight, but she didn't suppose she'd have far to walk. She produced a pair of gloves, and a minute later, from another drawer, a hooded cloak. 

"Good idea," approved Anamaria. "Sit down," she ordered. Dele sat and pulled on the little lace gloves. She tried not to fidget as the pirate brushed her hair and braided it. The quartermaster was right; she was certainly no lady's maid. Dele winced as Anamaria yanked another snarl from her hair. She wondered what she must look like in the borrowed finery. The frame of Gibbs' mirror still hung on the wall, emptied of its glass. The quartermaster set down the brush and patted Dele on the shoulders. "Have ye still got that knife ?" Dele blushed, then nodded. "Good. Here, this may come in handy." The woman pushed an object into Dele's hands. She hid it away in her pocket without looking at it. "Ye're doin' a brave thing," Anamaria said bracingly. "Now don't ye worry. The Cap'n will come up with a plan. He'll have ye away from this Lord Whatsisname and back safe an' sound in no time." Dele followed her back to the captain's cabin, wishing she felt as assured as Anamaria sounded.

Sparrow met them in the passageway. It was getting dark. The captain carried a lantern. "Time's runnin' out, I'm afraid, ladies." He raised the lantern, looked Dele up and down and grinned. "Very pretty." He bowed to her. "I suppose Lord Javier visited Miss Jane's mother a time or two, didn't he ?" Dele nodded. The Spaniard had been one of Maude Featherstone's lovers, as he had guessed. "Don't suppose he'll believe ye really are Jane Featherstone, once he gets a good look at ye, then ?" He wiggled his eyebrows at her. 

Despite her fear, Dele giggled. "No. He's seen Jane." Anamaria unfurled the cloak, draped it around Dele's shoulders. 

"A cloak ! Well, old Reyes seemed to think it was a good disguise when he wore one. Maybe he'll be fooled by it. Clever girl," Sparrow remarked. "All right, wait here. I'm off to lower one of the life boats."

"Don't ye want help with that, Cap'n ?" inquired Anamaria.

"No, love," he replied cheerily. "I'll be doin' it all by me onesy." He winked. "Takes a bit more time that way, savvy ?"

By the time the captain returned, the narrow space was completely dark. Sparrow had left the lantern with the boat. "All right, Della. Ye sure ye want to do this ?" he questioned seriously.

"There's no choice," Dele replied. Now that it was time, she began to tremble. "Anyway, I have nothing to lose."

She felt the pirate's hands rest gently on her shoulders. "Ah, don't say that. Ye have a lot to lose." He paused, then said briskly, "But we're not goin' to lose anythin', Della, me love. The _Pearl_ will be on Reyes' tail quicker than ye can say bob's yer uncle. Ye just give out the directions to old Reyes in little dribs and drabs, savvy ? We'll have ye back in a day or two, at the most." 

He fumbled in the darkness, pulling the hood of the cloak up over her head. "Right then, ye're a fine respectable little lady. Ye've just swooned dead away, it bein' just too much for ye, bein' kidnapped and attacked by pirates and Spaniards and all."

Dele giggled again. It was impossible to be frightened when the pirate painted such a rosy picture of her impending ordeal. He made it sound like a jolly little adventure. 

"Shh. Not another word now, ye'd be amazed how sound carries over water, love." Sparrow picked her up and carried her across the deck. Dele made herself lie limp against his chest. She was supposed to be unconscious with terror. It wasn't far from the truth, she thought. Her heart hammered against her ribs. Once the captain stopped talking to her in that chatty way he had, reality set in and all her fear returned. 

He reached the rail and shifted her body, putting her over one shoulder. Her breath left her in a rush. The pirate might be strong, but his shoulders were bony. "Sorry, love," he breathed as he clambered over the side. The boat rocked precariously as Sparrow stepped into it. He laid Dele down gently in the stern of the little craft. The hood covered her face. She could see nothing but the glow from the lantern hanging from the prow. 

Oars splashed as Sparrow dropped them into place. The boat made its way with agonizing slowness across the stretch of water between the two ships. Dele wished the captain would hurry up. She wanted to face Reyes and get it over with. He was stalling for time, she reminded herself. 

Finally, the little boat bumped up against the side of the _Venganza_. Dele could hear Sparrow fumbling about with the oars. The boat tipped as he stooped and picked her up, totally muffled in the cloak. He slung her over his shoulder once more. The pirate climbed up the ladder and over the rail. His shoulder ground painfully into Dele's ribs every time he moved. She struggled to keep her arms and legs hanging limp; she was supposed to be unconscious. 

Dele could hear talking on deck, unintelligible. Spanish. Cap'n Sparrow shifted her off his shoulder. She gave a silent sigh of relief.

The Spanish chatter died away. "You are ten minutes late, Sparrow," came a cold, haughty voice. "It is a good thing for you that I am a patient man."

"Sorry 'bout that," replied Sparrow jauntily, not sounding sorry in the least. "Had a bit of trouble, ye see. Told the poor girl she was comin' to see ye, and she fainted dead away."

"Good. She knows how to show proper respect," said the Spaniard with a trace of humor. Then his voice grew cold again. "Set her down and get off of my ship."

"Set her down ?" The pirate sounded affronted. "Wot, here on the deck ? Like she were nothin' but a piece of cargo ? No wonder ye're not very popular with the ladies, Reyes. Don't ye have a cabin to stow her in ?"

Reyes sighed theatrically. "Very well. Bring her along." Dele was carried across the deck. She still couldn't see a thing, other than the light from the lanterns illuminating the ship. A door opened. The captain eased her through the doorway, her feet brushing against the jamb. The cabin was dark. The next moment, Dele was laid down gently on a soft surface. The berth. 

Footsteps retreated from the cabin. The door shut with a click. She heard a key turn. Dele lay on the bed for a long time in the darkness, afraid to move. 

  
  


On deck, Cap'n Jack Sparrow tried one last attempt to buy more time. "So, Reyes, old chap," he began, acutely aware of the pistols aimed at him by several of the _Vengenza's_ crew. He tried a smile at the nearest sailor. The man glared at him stonily, adjusting his grip on his weapon. Jack took a deep breath and pressed his hands together in front of him. He turned back to the Spaniard. "I took one of yer men prisoner." He shook his head remorsefully. "Shame about the dozen or so me crew killed. They just can't help themselves. Bloodthirsty." Sparrow shrugged. "Pirates, ye know." He smiled his most winning smile at the Spaniard, and spread his arms wide. "So, bein' as we're friends and all, if ye like, I'll just row back over to me ship and fetch yer lad. Ye know, return him to ye unharmed ?"

Javier Reyes laughed, a cold mocking sound, devoid of mirth. "Mister Sparrow, you may keep the boy, or throw him overboard for all I care. Now get off my ship, or my men will be tossing your own filthy carcass into the sea."

The pirate retreated. "That's _Captain_ Sparrow, ye arrogant git," he muttered under his breath, as he shipped the oars. He watched the crew of the _Venganza_ begin to weigh anchor with a sense of relief. It seemed they might not fire on them after all. Still, he expected the cannons to begin thundering at any moment as he rowed the interminable distance back to the _Black Pearl_. 

  
  


  
  


  
  


  
  



	11. Hangover

By the time Cap'n Sparrow got back to the _Black Pearl_, the lights of the Spanish ship were beginning to fade in the distance. "Well, boys, get some lanterns lit. See to the damage," he ordered. The crew hurried to obey. Several of them took care of the life boat. The pirate stalked across the immobile deck of his ship, nearly falling twice in the process. He cursed softly, unaccustomed to the feeling of helplessness; not liking it one bit.

He poked his head into his cabin. It was empty. Anamaria met him outside her own cabin, a hammock in her arms. "Cookie's sittin' up with the girl," she remarked curtly. "I've got Gibbs in here. I'll keep an eye on him."

Sparrow followed her into the tiny room and took another look at Gibbs. The first mate was sprawled in Anamaria's berth, dead to the world. His breathing was deep and even. That was something, the Cap'n supposed. He leered at Anamaria as she hung the hammock from a beam. "I've finally figured out how a man gets into yer bed, love," he remarked with a rogueish grin. "He only has to get his head bashed in -" He laughed and ducked away from her as she advanced on him, fist poised. "Rather a high price to pay, I'm afraid." Sparrow scampered out the door. Anamaria slammed it behind him. 

The _Pearl_ hadn't sustained much damage. They just had to wait for the tide to rise and they'd be on their way. Sparrow imagined he felt the ship beginning to rock, just a bit. He hoped so. He hopped up and down on the deck experimentally, decided his hope was premature. Charlie's body lay near the rail, wrapped in a piece of canvas. Sparrow sighed. Charlie had been a good man. "A short life, but a merry one," he commented to himself. They would bury Charlie at sea. In the morning, the captain thought. Time enough for that in the morning. The dead man certainly wouldn't mind the delay. 

He wandered aft, back to Gibbs' cabin. Jane Featherstone occupied the berth. She too was out cold, thanks to shock and the unaccustomed rum. Cookie lay stretched out on the floor, head pillowed on one arm. "She been asleep this whole time, Cap'n," he reported, sitting up. 

"How ye holdin' up ?" Sparrow inquired.

"Ah, I'm fine." Cookie said, dismissing his wounds with a wave of his good arm. "Little Dele goin' to be all right, Cap'n ?" 

"Aye," Cap'n Jack Sparrow was certain of it. "Sure she will. We'll be on our way to rescue her in an hour, maybe less." He looked over at Jane. "Has she said anythin' ?"

Cookie grinned. "No, Cap'n. She start talkin' 'bout that treasure, I be sure to call you."

The crew loitered on deck, waiting for the _Pearl _to float free. Finally, she began to rock in the waves. "Put on as much canvas as she'll hold," Sparrow yelled, heading for the helm at a run. The crew let out a cheer as the ship drifted off of the shoal at last. The wind filled the sails as Sparrow brought her around. He stared hard at the horizon ahead of them, his mind traveling ahead to the _Venganza_. Now, you just hold on, Della, me love, he thought. Give us a day, two at most. We'll have ye back in no time.

  
  


Alone in the cabin, Dele felt the ship begin to move. She waited, half afraid the _Venganza's_ cannons would begin to fire. Nothing happened for a long time. Finally, she dared to get up from the berth and look around. There was no furniture in the cabin other than the cupboards and berth which were built into the wall. There was a built in bench under the window. It was dark in the little cabin and there were no candles or lantern. 

The girl pulled off the cloak and gloves. The cabin was warm, almost stuffy, and the disguise had served its purpose. She kicked the too-tight shoes off her feet. With nothing else to do, Dele sat down on the bench and stared out the window. She could see nothing but the ship's wake, white foam rolling over black waves under a black sky.

She hadn't felt this alone since her mother had been taken, sold to pay off some of Maude Featherstone's debts. Before, at least, she had always had Miss Jane. She couldn't help but smile to herself, amused at the thought of Jane being a comfort to her. Dele thought of the pirates. She wondered how Mr. Gibbs was doing, and fought back tears. She didn't even know if he would live or die. Despite Anamaria's and Sparrow's assurances, she didn't really know if she herself would live, or die by Reyes' hand. Dele blinked the tears away. Captain Sparrow had promised he would rescue her. She had to believe that he would 

Footsteps sounded outside the cabin door. Dele heard the key turn in the lock. Her heart seemed to leap in her chest. A sailor stepped into the room and hung a lantern from a hook on one of the ceiling beams. Dele blinked in the light. The sailor stepped aside as Lord Javier Reyes entered. The Spaniard snapped an order and the sailor retreated, closing the door behind him.

Reyes crossed the room in several swift strides. Dele stood up to meet him. She was trembling. The Spaniard took her in from head to toe with a glance. His eyes narrowed. "A pickaninny. So. Sparrow has had his little joke after all."

"Sir, I -" Dele began. 

Reyes struck her across the face without warning, hard, knocking her to the floor. She never even saw the blow coming. The girl had been afraid that he would hurt her, had expected him to hurt her, but she had expected him to threaten first. 

The Spaniard drew back a booted foot and kicked her. Dele struggled to draw air into her lungs. He kicked her again, twice, three times, brutally. She couldn't breathe. The pain was blinding. Reyes was going to kill her before she could say a word to him, she realized with horror. Desperately, she struggled to rise to her hands and knees. She drew in a breath of air, pain slicing through her ribs. "Twenty-one degrees, eight minutes north latitude," she sobbed.

The Spaniard stopped, foot poised to kick again. Dele gasped. "I know where the treasure is hidden." Against her will, a sob of pain escaped her throat. "I'll tell you," she cried.

Reyes grabbed the girl by the hair and yanked her to her feet. She swayed, arms wrapped around her middle. "I already know the coordinates for the island," he told her coldly. "If that is all you have to say to me, then you shall die."

"I know all the directions," Dele told him, fighting to keep her voice steady. She couldn't stop herself from crying. "I'll tell you more..." her voice trailed off on another sob.

"I am waiting," Reyes said implacably.

Dele took another breath. "Lay anchor between silla and carribee dis."

The Spaniard drew back his hand, almost casually, and slapped her across the face once more. The room spun. Dele tasted blood in her mouth where her lip had been cut against her teeth. If Reyes hadn't been holding her up, she would have fallen to the floor again. "What nonsense is this ? Some game of Sparrow's ? That is meaningless," he said in the same cold, uncaring voice.

She was going to die. The Spaniard was going to kill her, and he didn't even care enough to show emotion about it. Despite her terror, Dele felt rage. She was a person. Her life was worth more than this. "Those are the instructions," she screamed at him, taking strength from her anger. "Silla and carribee dis ! They don't mean anything to me either. You want the gold; you figure it out !"

Javier Reyes let go of her. She staggered, managed to lower herself onto the window seat. Dele was determined to regain some dignity. She didn't have the strength to stand, but she would not lie on the floor like a dog. Choking back another sob, she concentrated on just breathing.

"Silla and carribee dis. Carribee dis...Charybdis." The Spaniard chuckled to himself. "_Scylla and Charybdis_," he mused. "Featherstone fancied himself a Greek scholar, did he ?" He looked down at the girl with contempt. "You will tell me all of the directions. Now."

Dele braced herself. "No. A bit at a time. Until we reach the island." Despite her resolve, she cringed. 

The expected blow didn't fall. "I will kill you now, unless you cooperate," the Spaniard said calmly.

"You'll kill me anyway, once you have the treasure," she retorted, surprised at her own courage in defying him. "You'll get the instructions a little at a time, or not at all."

"Either way," he responded with offhand cruelty. "Eventually I will get the treasure, and you will die." He turned away. Taking the lantern, he left the cabin, locking the door behind him.

"I only need to stay alive another day," Dele whispered to herself. She curled up on the bench, rocking her aching body back and forth. "Then I'll be rescued." She made herself believe it. "Just another day. Two at the most."

  
  


Gibbs awoke in his berth. He knew immediately that something wasn't right. It wasn't just that Jack's young friend Will Turner was using his skull for an anvil, although that was definitely part of the problem. Gibbs lay still and thought about it, laboriously. The girls had taken his cabin. He should have awakened in a hammock. Early morning light trickled in from the window. It hurt his eyes. It was also coming in from the port side. Gibbs closed his eyes and pondered this for a long time. His cabin was on the starboard side. The quartermaster's cabin was on the port side. Anamaria's cabin. He forced himself to think logically and ignore the hammering in his skull. It followed that if he was in Anamaria's cabin, then this was her berth. His head hurt so much, it took a minute for the full impact of this to register. He was in Anamaria's bed. Anamaria would not approve. Oh, no, she would not.

Gibbs leaped out of bed. Or rather, tried to leap out of bed. He managed to swing his feet over the side and rise to a sitting position before young Turner, from inside his skull, registered his displeasure with renewed hammering. "Ye gods an' little fishes," Gibbs groaned. Anamaria had slung a hammock from the beams and now sat up herself, feet dangling.

"Mornin', Joshamee," she said. "How ye feelin' ?"

Apparently he was meant to be in the quartermaster's bed for some reason. She didn't seem angry with him. "Thas's a relief," he muttered. "Anamaria," he added. "Unarmed. Thas's good." Gibbs smiled at the female pirate tentatively, then threw up. Anamaria saw him start to retch and scrambled to hold a bucket for him to contain the mess. 

"Ah. Not so good, I see," she commented, kneeling beside him. "Lie back down."

The blacksmith had subsided a bit, apparently startled by the vomit. "Nah," said Gibbs, dismissively. "I'm fine. Jus' fine." He was still a bit worried about being in her bed. "I'll jus' be gettin' along, then," the first mate said, struggling to rise. Young Will dealt his skull another mighty blow with his hammer. "How did he get inside me noggin ?" mumbled Gibbs.

Anamaria looked concerned. She was used to the pirate muttering incoherently, but this was extreme, even for him. "Mister Gibbs," she said authoritatively, holding up three fingers. "How many fingers am I holdin' up ?"

Gibbs blinked several times. Things were a bit hazy, but he could count her fingers easily enough. "Three," he said decisively, pointing slightly to the left of where her hand was. He frowned. "An' three more," he added, pointing slightly to the right. The first mate struggled to do the math. "I do wish ye'd stop that hammerin'," he remarked peevishly to young Turner. "Ah. Three plus three. Tha' makes six. I didn' know ye had a sister, Anamaria."

"Sister ?" she repeated, perplexed.

"Aye, but I do believe yer much prettier than her," Gibbs whispered confidentially, looking toward Anamaria's left shoulder. "Meanin' no offense, miss," he added, turning toward her right shoulder.

"Gibbs. Lie back down. Now !" said the two women, loud enough to start the damn blacksmith hammering with renewed vigor. 

Mr. Gibbs winced. His head hurt so badly. It really wasn't fair; Anamaria alone was formidable enough. Anamaria with a sister in tow was...invincible. Gibbs knew when he was beaten. He lowered himself gingerly back onto the berth. "How long do I have to lay here," he whined.

"Until me sister goes away," snapped Anamaria. "Now shut up. I'm – _we're _- goin' back to sleep."

  
  


It was nearly noon. Cap'n Jack Sparrow had left Taylor at the helm with the new course to follow and gone to his cabin to snatch an hour or two of sleep. His body was exhausted, but sleep refused to come. His mind was racing. A knock sounded at the door. The pirate sat up. "Come in," he called, glad of a distraction.

Anamaria stalked into the room, followed by Gibbs. It was a miracle the first mate was up and about, Sparrow thought. The man looked miserable. His face was pale, his eyes bloodshot. A fresh bandage was wound around his head. It wasn't the mate's physical appearance that was troubling, though. It was his demeanor. Gibbs looked like a dog that had been kicked a time or two too many.

"Mister Gibbs, glad to see ye're finally awake," said the Cap'n with a smile, taking a seat at the table and motioning for his officers to do the same.   
  
Gibbs hung his head. "By rights, I should be dead," he muttered.

Anamaria rolled her eyes as she pulled out a chair. "I told him what happened last night, after he got knocked out," she said. "_Through no fault of his own,"_ she added pointedly, glaring at the first mate, who remained standing, staring at the floor.

"Ah, Cap'n, I oughtta be flogged," he said. "Keelhauled. Lettin' the _Pearl _run aground -"

"Ye didn't _let _her, Joshamee," Sparrow hastily interrupted his first mate's litany. "Tell me ye're not goin' to start up that old Royal Navy act with us, are ye ?" He shook his head, casting a glance toward Anamaria. Gibbs was known to find fault with himself whenever anything went wrong.

"Too late," the quartermaster grumbled, helping herself to a glass of rum. "He's been in full swing for an hour, the big baby. Ye have to talk some sense into him, Jack."

"Poor little Della," Gibbs said. His bloodshot eyes were moist. "Kidnapped by murderous Spaniards, an' all because I neglected me duty. I oughtta be keelhauled," he repeated dully.

Sparrow was strongly tempted to slap him. "Pull yerself together, man," he said, snapping his fingers under Gibbs' nose to emphasize his words. "Ye did a fine job last night. Prettiest bit of sailin' I ever seen. The _Pearl _hardly took a scratch, thanks to you." The first mate shook his head stubbornly.

Sparrow stood abruptly and wove across the cabin to the desk. He returned with a chart, which he spread out on the table. "Look here, Gibbs," he demanded, pointing a finger between the pirate's eyes. Gibbs blinked, tracked Jack's finger as it swooped down over the chart and landed on a tiny speck. "The _Venganza _will have to put in here to take on water," the Cap'n continued. "I just know it, Joshamee." He met Gibbs' eyes. "We'll catch 'em there tomorrow evenin'. That's when I'll be needin' yer help to get Della back."

"Cap'n, ye know I'd do anythin'," Gibbs said earnestly. "Anythin'. Poor little Della."

"Hush. She'll be fine. I need ye to come up with a plan."

"A plan for wot ?" Gibbs' eyes narrowed suspiciously. He had begun to lose the hangdog look. "Ye know I ain't no good with plans, Cap'n."

"Really ?" The Cap'n's kohl-rimmed eyes widened, the picture of innocence. "Who came up with the cunning plan to free Della in the first place ?" The first mate blushed and looked pleased in spite of himself. "This is right up yer alley, Gibbs. When I go in to rescue Della, I'll be countin' on ye to supply a diversion. To distract the Spanish, savvy ?" he added when Gibbs looked blank.

"Oh. Aye, a diversion," said Gibbs, the light dawning. "Aye, Jack. Don't ye worry. I'll come up with the most distractin' diversion ye ever saw." He saluted smartly and left the cabin hurriedly.

Sparrow leaned back in his chair, shaking his head ruefully. "Glad that's settled. Pour us a glass, would ye, love ?" he said to Anamaria. The quartermaster grinned and raised her own cup to him. It was the only one one the table. She passed him the bottle of rum. He clinked it against her glass and took a hearty pull. 

"Ye should get some sleep," she suggested.

Sparrow sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He set the bottle down carefully and pushed back his chair. "Never mind," he said. "There's a Spanish lad in the brig that I really should be interrogatin' right about now." He flashed the woman a gold-toothed grin and stumbled to the door.

  
  


  
  



	12. Waiting

Jane Featherstone awoke in Gibbs' berth with a pounding head that almost blocked out the fiery pain in her left shoulder. Almost. "Della !" she cried, sitting up. Her shoulder protested loudly and she fell back with a moan of pain.

  


Moments later the female pirate was at her side, holding a battered tin cup to her lips. "Here, drink some more o' this," she ordered.

  


"No," Jane snapped peevishly. The smell of the rum made her feel sick. Her head pounded harder. "Take it away." She glared at the woman. "Where is my maid ?" she demanded. "If she's been hurt..."

  


The pirate woman glared back. "_Della_ is all right," she said pointedly. "Ye owe her yer life, ye ungrateful chit. We all do. She took yer place last night, when yer Lord High-an'-Mighty demanded the Cap'n turn ye over to him."

  


Jane stared in disbelief. "No. No, it can't be." Her eyes filled with tears. "Not Della. How could he ? Stupid, filthy pirate," she raged. "How could Sparrow give her to Reyes ? She doesn't know where my father's treasure is hidden. He...he'll kill her !" 

  


The pirate's eyes met Jane's, cold and uncaring. "Della told the Cap'n that she did know where the treasure was. And anyway, the Cap'n ain't just gonna let Reyes have her. Even now, we be on our way to rescue her." 

  


"You have to help me get dressed," Jane commanded imperiously. Lord, her head hurt. "I have to speak to your Captain at once."

  


The insufferable woman merely snorted and turned away. "No fear that ye'll live, anyway" she muttered. Louder, she retorted, "Cap'n's got better things to do than parlay with you. An' I got better things to do than play at bein' yer maid." The door slammed as she exited the cabin, sending a fresh wave of pain through Jane's skull. 

  


The girl tried to get out of bed, but her legs buckled under her. She fell back against the pillows, crying weakly. "Not Della," she moaned. "Not Della. She doesn't know where the gold is hidden." Weak from loss of blood and sick from the aftereffects of the pirates' rough amateur medicine, Jane sank back into a restless sleep.

  


  


  


  


Cap'n Jack Sparrow slipped silently into the deepest hold of the _Black Pearl_. The dim light of a hanging lantern illuminated the smaller cell of the _Pearl's _brig. The Spaniard was sitting up on the narrow bench that was the cell's only furnishing. Holding his head in one hand, he slipped the wooden beads of some sort of necklace through the other hand. The pirate could just barely hear the soft, repetitive murmur of the prisoner's voice above the slap of waves against the hull. A cross dangled from the necklace; the Spaniard must be saying his prayers, then. Jack watched for a minute, interested. He'd never had much religious education, himself. 

  


It didn't take long for the Cap'n of the _Black Pearl_ to become bored with the prisoner's litany. "How's yer noggin, then ?" he asked brightly, stepping up to the bars of the cell. The Spaniard startled and hastily tucked his beads away in his shirt. Jack was momentarily affronted. As if he would steal a man's prayer beads. Especially a cheap set like those there. Even the cross was made of wood; not a scrap of silver on it. 

  


The prisoner didn't answer, but Jack could guess that he wasn't feeling at his best at the moment. The pirate chuckled ruefully. Little Lady Jane and her skillet. Wide grey eyes, stared up at him, the skin around them dark-smudged and slightly drawn with pain. The Spaniard was slender and pale, with an untidy queue of brown hair. He couldn't be more than eighteen or nineteen years old. 

  


"Wot's yer name, lad ?" he asked kindly, wondering if the young sailor could even understand him.

  


"You may torture me all you like, sir. I will give you no information." Jack almost had to laugh at that. The boy looked so determined, so fierce. He almost succeeded in hiding how frightened he was. 

  


Sparrow sighed theatrically, raising a hand to his heart. "I don't know who's been spreadin' the rumor that I likes to torture children, but-"

  


The boy was on his feet in an instant, grey eyes flashing. "I am Juan Carlos de la Cruz, an' I am no... no _children_ to be frighten of a...a _pirate_ like you !" His accent did get a bit thicker when he was worked up, but the boy spoke English well enough, Jack decided. He might actually be useful. With an effort, the pirate hid a grin. He was beginning to like this young Spaniard.

  


"Cap'n Jack Sparrow," he introduced himself, giving the lad a slight bow. "So, Juan," he peered into the cell, hands fluttering uncertainly, "ye don't mind if I call ye Juan, do ye ?"

  


"Carlos," said the boy tiredly, slumping back onto his bench. 

  


"Well, Carlos, to tell the truth, I mean ye no harm. Ye only managed to slice me cook a little bit. He'll be good as new in a day or two. No harm done, lad." Sparrow beamed at the prisoner. "No hard feelins. I'll be settin' ye free, soon as we reach a convenient port." The young sailor looked up cautiously. He seemed hopeful. 

  


Jack let his shoulders slump slightly and spread his hands apologetically. "Trouble is, Carlos me lad, we're bound for an uncharted island. We're weeks out of any port. Seems a shame to leave ye down here for days upon days in the dark and the damp, but, well..." Sparrow let his eyes rove over the dismal hold of the ship. He looked back at Carlos, who seemed considerably less hopeful. The pirate captain brightened as though at a sudden thought, flashing a gold-toothed smile. "Perhaps ye could help us out a bit. Yer ol' Cap'n Reyes has taken one of me crew hostage, ye see. Anything ye could tell us, ye know, to assist in the rescuin' of her, I'd appreciate it." Dreadlocks swayed as he cocked his head. "Now, for cooperatin' like that, I'm sure no one would object to givin' ye the run of the ship..."

  


Young de la Cruz shook his head. "I will no betray my shipmates, Captain Sparrow."

  


"Oh, aye, I can understand that. Ye owe yer loyalty to yer Cap'n. That's a good sailor." Jack leaned closer to the bars, kohl-rimmed eyes glittering. His voice was soft. "Specially since yer Cap'n Reyes had no interest in me returnin' ye to yer ship, once he knew ye were alive. 'Ye can kill him and throw him overboard, for all I care.' Aye, I believe those were his words regardin' the matter."

  


The rogue watched the boy absorb this bit of information. It was a pity, seeing him so downhearted. He really did like the lad. Carlos squared his shoulders. "I thank you for your candor, Captain Sparrow. I have suspect for a while now that Javier Reyes was not...not the man I had hope him to be. But my answer must remain the same. I will do nothing to betray my shipmates." 

  


Jack smiled. "Admirable sentiments, lad. Truly. Yer mother should be proud." Distracted, his eyes roved over the hold of the ship again. De la Cruz watched nervously. "Ah," Jack remarked, braids swinging as he suddenly assumed a fighter's stance and drew a long sword from behind his belt. The Spaniard's eyes widened. It was obvious he hadn't noticed the sword in the gloom of the hold. Now Jack held it up to the light, gazed along its length lovingly, balanced it across his palm. "Lovely, isn't it ? Perfectly balanced...light..." he remarked. The pirate flexed the blade. "Strong, too. A beautiful piece of work."

  


"My sword-" breathed de la Cruz, half-rising from his bench in the cell. 

  


Sparrow raised his eyebrows. "Wot's that ? _Your_ sword ?" He grinned, then shook his head apologetically. "Sorry, Carlos, me lad," the pirate captain said jauntily, "but I'm afraid that this is _my_ sword now." He gave the sword a flourish before tucking it back into his belt, then shrugged at the prisoner. "I am a pirate, after all."

  


Jack Sparrow turned briskly and swaggered out of the hold. He took the lantern with him. In the darkness, Carlos slumped back onto the bench once more. He put his head in his hands for a long minute, then pulled out his rosary and resumed his prayers.

  


  


  


Jack relieved Anamaria at the helm, trying to put the unsuccessful interrogation of Senor Juan Carlos de la Cruz out of his mind. The _Pearl _was making good headway with a following sea, but he knew he could get a bit more speed out of her. Anamaria lounged at the rail, watching Gibbs pace the deck, muttering to himself. "Workin' on his cunning plan," she remarked. "At least he ain't whinin' no more."

  


Sparrow smiled mirthlessly. Cookie approached the helm. With a clean shirt hiding his bandages, he looked like his old self. He saluted smartly, then turned to Anamaria. "Janey's awake again, Ana," he said diffidently. "She runnin' a fever, and that wound of hers needs a fresh dressin' on it..."

  


"So put a fresh dressin' on it. Or have Taylor do it," Anamaria snapped.

  


Cookie rolled his eyes. Jack kept his own eyes on the horizon. "Well, it wouldn't bother me none to doctor her," Cookie explained patiently, "but little Janey is a high-bred lady, ain't she ? And she at that age, you know, Ana. She don't want none of us men seein' her without her shirt on."

  


Anamaria raised her chin stubbornly. "I'm no one's maid," she gritted.

  


"She just a little girl," Cookie said, just as stubbornly, "A scared, hurt little girl. Don't tell me you scared of her ?" Anamaria's hand strayed to her dagger. Jack eased back a step or two, making sure the helm stood between him and the furious woman. "She saved my life," Cookie went on. He flashed a quick grin at the quartermaster. "Don't my life mean nothin' to you, Ana ?" 

  


The female pirate's lips quirked in a smile, which she quickly covered with another glower. "Oh, all right. All right. Go on, Isaac. I'll take care of the little brat for ye." 

  


"Thanks, Ana." Satisfied, Cookie retreated to his galley.

  


Anamaria turned on Sparrow. "This is a fine mess ye got us into, Jack," she complained. "Della kidnapped, no tellin' what might happen to her, and little Jane shot. I hope yer happy." She stomped off in the direction of Gibbs' cabin before the pirate captain had a chance to reply.

  


Disgruntled, Cap'n Sparrow settled his battered tricorn hat more firmly on his head. Softly, thoroughly, he cursed Jane Featherstone's buccaneer father, her harlot mother, and all of her assorted uncles. His language, always picturesque, became even more colorful as he went along. Then Jack added a few choice phrases for Lord Reyes, the crew of the _Venganza_, and all the rest of the Spaniards in the world for good measure. It was so unfair. They were the cause of the little girl's troubles, not him. He, Cap'n Jack Sparrow, had merely kidnapped her. "What do you expect of me ?" he asked of no one in particular, "I'm a pirate, not a babysitter !"

  


  


  


  


Jane Featherstone was huddled in her berth when Anamaria arrived. "Go away. Leave me alone," she whined. 

  


"Got to change that bandage," the pirate snapped, yanking the sheet down. "You shut up, or I'll send Cookie in to do it." Jane blushed and did as she was told. Her lower lip trembled. Anamaria felt sorry for the girl in spite of herself. The skin around the wound was red and puffy. She cleaned the area with a rag soaked in rum. Jane winced but didn't make a sound during the pirate's ministrations. "There's a brave girl," she commented absently. "Don't ye worry, ye'll be good as new in no time."

  


"What about Della ?"

  


At least she hadn't said 'my maid', thought Anamaria. The girl actually seemed as though she might care about the slave's fate. Anamaria snorted. Not likely. "She'll be fine," she said gruffly. "Cap'n's gonna get her back safe and sound, just ye wait and see." 

  


  


  


  


Aboard the _Venganza_, Dele passed the hours dozing in the cabin's single berth. When her ribs ached too much from lying down, she sat in the window seat, leaning her head against the panes and watching for the _Black Pearl_. There was nothing else to do but wait for Reyes to return. She knew he would return with threats and demands for more directions. Dele tried not to think about what else Reyes might do. As the Caribbean sky slowly turned from blue to violet to star-sprinkled black, her aching stomach began to growl with hunger. Her mouth was dry too, a fact she had tried hard to ignore all afternoon.

  


The cabin door banged open. Dele sat up with a start. She had drifted off to sleep, watching for the _Pearl_. She blinked up at Javier Reyes in the bright light of the lantern held by one of his sailors. "Directions," he snapped.

  


Dele gulped and tried to quiet the frantic hammering of her heart. "From the t-top of the mizzen mast, follow the stream. T-turn west at the...the hanging tree." she recited, stammering. "Really, that's the next part," she said desperately, "sir."

  


The Spaniard's cold eyes swept over her. He turned away. 

  


Dele sighed with relief, then remembered her thirst. "Please, sir, may I have some water ?"

  


He didn't even bother to look back. The sailor with Reyes glanced at her without emotion, then followed his captain out the door. The key turned in the lock. One more day and I'll be rescued, Dele thought. Less than a day, probably. I can manage another day without food or water. The thirst nagged at her, though, making all her aches and pains feel even worse. 

  


She sat back down in the window seat and resumed her vigil. Any minute now, I'll see the lights of the _Pearl_, she told herself. Time slipped by; aching ribs and thirst and no lights on the horizon. Dele turned away. To keep her mind off her misery, she pulled out the little paring knife and held it in her hand. She tried to imagine stabbing Javier Reyes with it. Suddenly, she remembered Anamaria's parting gift. She reached into the other pocket of her borrowed gown. 

  


It was a little flask, wrapped in leather, like the one she had seen Mr. Gibbs drinking from when he thought no one was looking. The flask sloshed invitingly when Dele shook it. Eagerly, she unscrewed the cap and took a sip. "Ugh !" The girl spit the horrible stuff onto the floor. Her eyes watered and her cut lip burned where the liquid had touched it. Reluctantly, she replaced the lid. She would have to be a lot more thirsty than she was now to risk drinking any more.

  


Dele pondered. She crossed the cabin to the door. Ignoring the frightened pounding of her heart, she knocked softly. A long minute passed, then just as softly, the key turned in the lock. The same sailor who had come in with Reyes peered in at her. "_Que _?" His voice was a whisper.

  


"I'm thirsty. I. Am. Thirsty," she told him slowly, keeping her voice low, then mimed drinking from cupped hands. He shook his head and started to close the door. "Wait ! Look, I'll give you this," she wheedled, bringing out the flask and waving it enticingly. 

  


The sailor appeared interested. He reached for the flask. Dele pulled it back. Unseen, her right hand felt along the seam of her skirt to the pocket. The paring knife rested there, hidden among the layers of petticoats, giving her confidence. "You bring me food. Water." She mimed eating and drinking. "Then I give you this." She waved the little bottle again. 

"_Ahora no,_" he whispered. He closed the door firmly. The girl heard it lock.

  


Dele slumped onto the berth. She didn't know exactly what the Spanish sailor had said, but she understood 'no'. Soon Captain Sparrow and Mr. Gibbs will come and rescue me, she reminded herself, trying not to cry.

  


Some time later there came the sound of the key turning in the lock. Dele stiffened. Was it Reyes again so soon ? The door did not open. Instead, a soft scratching came from the other side. She crossed the cabin and opened the door with trembling fingers. 

  


The sailor stood there with a large mug of water and a handful of the biscuits the sailors called hardtack. Dele grabbed the mug and took a long drink. Water had never tasted so good. She reached for the hardtack. The sailor shook his head, grinning, his empty hand held out. She brought out the flask. They made their exchange. He grinned at her once more and then the door closed.

  


Dele stuffed her mouth with hardtack, washing it down with gulps of water. Briefly, she thought of rationing the food, then discarded the idea. Captain Sparrow will be here in a few hours, she thought. Feeling much better, the girl sat back down on the bench to wait for him.


	13. An Island

A new dawn found Cap'n Jack Sparrow at the helm of his beloved _Pearl_. Mr. Gibbs was pacing the deck below, muttering and puffing on his pipe. The captain was fairly sure his first mate had been pacing that way all night. Jack adjusted the ship's course slightly and then called out to Gibbs. "We'll catch up to the _Venganza_ just before sunset," he said confidently.

  


"Me plan's all ready, Cap'n," Gibbs responded, tapping the side of his head. The old sailor winced slightly. 

  


Sparrow grinned. "Get yerself below and get some sleep, Mr. Gibbs. That's an order."

  


  


  


The day dragged on. Anamaria checked in on Jane Featherstone. The girl was silent as the quartermaster changed her bandages. "I'm tired of lying here," she fretted as the last strip of cloth was wound around her shoulder. Anamaria frowned at the girl's petulant tone. "I want to get up and get dressed," she went on, making an effort to keep the whininess out of her voice. "Will you help me ? I can't do it myself." That was true. The girl's left arm would probably get back to normal as her shoulder healed, the pirate thought, but for now the girl could barely move it. "Please," Jane added quietly.

  


The please did it. "All right," the quartermaster replied grudgingly, hiding a smile. With Anamaria's help, Jane was soon dressed in one of her red gowns, with her arm in a makeshift sling. 

  


Cap'n Sparrow flinched when the girl appeared on deck later that day. "Wot's she doin' up and about ?" he asked, pointing an accusing finger at Anamaria.

  


The pirate officer shrugged. "The girl's feelin' better," she explained. "And she said 'please'. Just as nice as ye'd want to hear."

  


"That doesn't sound like our Lady Jane," Jack remarked. "You sure she didn't get hit on the head as well as the shoulder ?"

  


Down on the main deck, Jane could be heard interrogating Gibbs. "Is this as fast as this boat can go ?" she asked, her voice slipping into its familiar whine.

  


"I feel sorry for Joshamee," said the quartermaster with a chuckle.

  


"Don't," Sparrow retorted. "I told him to stay in bed."

  


  


  


Late in the afternoon, Taylor shouted down from the crow's nest. "Land ho !" He scampered down the shrouds, clutching the Cap'n's brass spyglass. Sparrow took the helm and swung the _Pearl _hard to starboard.

  


"Wot's in yer head, Cap'n ?" asked Anamaria, taking the spyglass and squinting through it. She could barely make out a vague, dark smudge on the horizon.

  


"That's the islet where Reyes has put in to take on fresh water," Jack said with supreme confidence. Seeing her skeptical look, he grudgingly elaborated. "I got a good look around the _Venganza_ when I delivered little Della. That ship was stripped of everything but her guns and the shot and powder to fire 'em. It wouldn't surprise me if her crew goes ashore to forage for food." The pirate preened, giving Anamaria a cocky grin. "That's the only island anywhere near our route with a fresh water spring. The _Venganza_ will be there."

  


They sailed the _Black Pearl _far out around the tiny island, coming in from the north. There was no sign of the Spanish vessel. Jack assured the crew that Reyes' ship would be anchored on the south side. Gibbs and his landing party piled into one of the longboats. They would go ashore on the north side of the islet and make their way overland to get in place for Gibbs' diversion. "We'll be ready when ye give the signal, Cap'n," Gibbs said with a grin. 

  


Anamaria took the helm to bring them around to the western side of the piece of land. Even though they must be very close to where the Spanish ship lay at anchor, a thick covering of trees hid the _Venganza_ from view. "Which means the Spaniards can't see the _Pearl_," Jack smirked. "Hopefully," he added. Anamaria thought of a foraging party from the _Venganza_ spotting the pirate ship and raising the alarm, and gave the Cap'n a sour look. He steepled his fingers and smiled back at her innocently. They lay anchor and waited while the sun slowly sank toward the horizon.

  


  


  


  


Lord Javier Reyes stood at the rail of his ship, watching the beach where his sailors had made a roaring bonfire. He had let all but four go ashore. The crew had been close to mutiny after he had refused to ransom de la Cruz. The Spaniard sneered. Riff-raff. Well, this little break ought to cheer them up.

  


"Wind in yer sails, wind in yer sails !"

  


Reyes startled and looked around. He saw nothing out of the ordinary. The haughty noble dismissed the faint voice as imagination. Perhaps one of the men on shore had shouted something. 

  


  


  


Mr. Gibbs, Taylor, and the others crept cautiously through the stifling undergrowth. "Hot work, isn't it ?" grumbled a sailor, wiping his brow. Gibbs smirked. "It'll be hotter, soon enough," he joked. Even as they whispered, a cool breeze started up. The sun was lower, almost to the horizon. "Near perfect..." murmured Gibbs. The men took up position around the Spaniards' makeshift camp and waited for the Cap'n's signal.

  


  


  


  


Dele sat in the window seat and watched the waves turn golden in the light of the setting sun. She had thought that it would take the _Venganza_ at least a week to reach the treasure island, yet here they were, lying at anchor. Reyes would surely force her to tell the rest of the directions to the treasure, and then kill her. She tried not to give in to despair. Suddenly, a flash of green and red came into view. "Drink up, me hearty !" Wings beat against the panes. Dele opened the window and Mr. Cotton's parrot landed in her lap. She squealed. The bird chewed at a lock of her hair, then fluttered away. 

  


Dele became aware of a faint sound, familiar from her rowboat trip from the _Pearl_ to the _Venganza; _ the splashing of oars. She leaned as far out of the window as she dared, squinting into the setting sun. The light reflecting off the water was dazzling; she could see nothing. The splashing sounds, already muffled, faded away. Suddenly, a pistol shot rang out. Startled, Dele ducked back and closed the window.

  


  


  


  


On the main deck of the _Venganza_, Javier Reyes drew his own pistol, taking cover against the stairs leading to the poop deck. He waited, dark eyes darting this way and that. The shot had sounded close, but there was no way to tell what direction it had come from as the echoes rolled across the water and gradually faded away. The Spanish lord opened his mouth to shout orders to his crew, but closed it with a snap as chaos broke out on shore.

  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  



	14. Rescue

The Spanish sailors lounged around their bonfire as the sun slowly set over the waves. Several jumped to their feet as a pistol shot rang out, looking anxiously towards the _Venganza_ anchored just offshore. Pistols were cocked and swords hastily drawn. Nothing appeared to be amiss, however. Slowly, the men relaxed. One of the sailors who had risen to his feet had just started to sit back down when the bonfire exploded. 

  


Flames roared twenty feet in the air. A man screamed and clutched the side of his face where a shard of glass had struck him. The Spaniards scrambled away from the fire, staring around them in confusion. A bottle flew through the air, shattering as it impacted at the edge of the fire, sending a new torrent of flames skyward. A sharp-eyed boy shouted and pointed to the edge of the trees. A flash of color was visible; a man retreating after throwing the improvised explosive.

  


"Nice piece of work, Carnehan" cried Gibbs, signaling to several of the others lying in wait in the bushes. 

  


"Aye, that got their attention," panted the man. "Shame about the rum, though." The buccaneers had no time to regret the loss of two bottles of their favorite beverage; at Gibbs' signal, Taylor and several of the others had lit fuses. The pirates hit the dirt and covered their heads as several small powder kegs exploded violently, accompanied by more screams from the Spanish. The bonfire was not the only thing burning on the beach now. Rising to his feet, Gibbs let out a shout of laughter at the sight of the crew of the _Venganza _running every which way, looking for cover.

  


  


  


  


Dele opened the window and peered out once more. Dark shapes could be seen running about on shore, silhouetted against flames. A good portion of the shoreline seemed to be on fire. From the deck of the ship, frantic shouts could be heard. Dele gaped at the scene, amazed. Her heart was thudding so hard, her sore ribs ached. "It must be the pirates, coming to rescue me," she breathed. But where was the _Black Pearl _?

  


  


  


  


"Weigh anchor. We'll put out to sea," Reyes snapped. The remaining sailors aboard rushed to obey. The Spanish lord relaxed a bit. There was no sign of another ship; the attack seemed focused on the shore party. Once at sea, his ship's superior gun power would assure his safety. He slipped his pistol back into his belt.

  


The sound of a footfall made Javier Reyes tense again; he reached for the pistol. Grubby, beringed fingers closed over the immaculate white lace of his cuff, stopping his hand. "Now, now, Reyes, ye don't want to be doin' anythin' rash. I'll be takin' that, thank ye kindly."

  


"Sparrow-" choked the nobleman.

  


"_Cap'n _Sparrow," chided the pirate. The loud click of a pistol being cocked sounded next to Reyes' right ear. Reluctantly, he raised his hands. The pirate laughed and relieved him of his pistol, swiftly patting him down and removing his sword and dagger as well. 

  


"Keep your filthy hands away from me," the captain of the _Venganza_ sneered, more from habit than from any real hope of being obeyed. He knew that he was defeated; half a dozen of Sparrow's bloodthirsty rogues could be seen driving his crew towards the mainmast. The sailors had their hands raised in the air; clearly they had been caught by surprise and disarmed without a fight. Within moments, they were being roped together around the mast.

  


  


  


  


Back on shore, Joshamee Gibbs and his band of wild buccaneers burst out of the jungle and attacked. The pirates howled like banshees, rushing at the panicked Spaniards. 

  


The first mate closed with a young sailor, swinging his cutlass. The lad barely parried the blow. He struck again, batting his opponent's blade out of his hand. Gibbs raised his weapon in both hands. The blood pounded in his ears and a cry of triumph burst from his throat. The younker sank to his knees on the sand, holding his hands up in a pitiful attempt to defend himself. He babbled something in Spanish. Abruptly, the old pirate came to his senses. He stumbled back a step or two, remembering Jack's orders. "Take prisoners, boys ! Take prisoners," he shouted to the others. 

  


It appeared that the pirates were doing just that. As Gibbs glanced around, it seemed the fight was nearly over. He reached down and grabbed his defeated opponent by the arm, dragging him to his feet. His bushy eyebrows waggled as he grinned at the terrified young sailor. "Don't be scared, lad, this be yer lucky day." 

  


  


  


  


Aboard the _Black Pearl_, Anamaria frowned and adjusted her grip on the helm. She shrugged her shoulders, trying to ease their tension. She was bringing the ship around to the south side of the island. The waters were totally unfamiliar. It was nearly full dark. Davies was up at the prow, taking soundings. "Quarter less seven," he shouted back. 

  


"Well, at least we won't run aground," she remarked. The quartermaster wasn't as bothered by that possibility as she was by the nervous, fidgeting girl standing beside her.

  


"Those explosions," Jane fretted. "Do you think Della is safe ? What do you suppose is going on ?"

  


"She's fine," Anamaria reassured the girl for what seemed like the tenth time. "That's Gibbs' diversion ye heard. There's nothin' to worry about." 

  


"Can't we go any faster ?" 

  


The girl's voice grated on Anamaria's nerves. "For the last time, _no._" Shut up, child, or I swear, I'll keelhaul ye, she thought. Perhaps Lady Jane finally caught the edge in the pirate's voice, or maybe she was just hoping for a better view. At any rate, she moved away to stand at the prow of the ship. Anamaria breathed a sigh of relief. 

  


  


  


Cookie and Mr. Cotton crossed the deck of the _Venganza_, saluting their captain jauntily. "The ship's all yours, Cap'n Sparrow," said Cookie. 

  


"Good work, men." 

  


"It was too easy," said Cookie modestly. Reyes glared. "Maybe we should be callin' you Admiral Sparrow, seein' as you have the start of a fleet here," laughed the cook. 

  


"Admiral has a nice ring to it," smirked Jack, preening. 

  


"Wind in yer sails, wind in yer sails," squawked Cotton's parrot. Cotton nodded, beaming. Reyes winced. Sparrow stepped back and the two sailors took hold of the Spaniard roughly. 

  


"Um, Cap'n," prompted Cookie, "little Dele ?" Jack stood swaying, one hand tucked inside his coat, striking an heroic pose. Startled out of his reverie by the big pirate's words, the would-be admiral looked blank. "Dele," Cookie reminded him. "We're here to rescue her ?"

  


"Ah. Yes, Della. Aye," Jack agreed. Swaggering, he made his way to the cabins.

  


  


  


  


Dele crouched in the darkness of the cabin, watching out the window. Nothing was moving on the beach. The flames seemed to be dying down. There was no sound from on deck, either. What was going on ? She turned at the sound of footsteps in the passage. The door handle rattled. She tried to call out. "Mister Gibbs ?" Her voice was a hoarse whisper. 

  


A moment later, the door burst inward, propelled by a man's shoulder. Dele screamed. The intruder stumbled, arms windmilling, trying to keep his footing. Beads flashed in the dim light. "Captain Sparrow !" Dele threw herself across the cabin and grabbed the pirate in a fierce hug. "I knew you'd come. I knew it !"

  


Jack staggered back several more steps at the girl's impact. The little maid was crying and hugging him around the waist. Disconcerted, he tried to pry her off him, unsuccessfully. Finally, he resorted to patting her shoulder. "There, there. S'all right now, love. Ye're safe. Hush. Ye can thank me later."

  


  


  


  


Taylor pushed the _Venganza's_ longboat through the surf and climbed in. Gibbs and Carnehan menaced the Spaniards with pistols as the men rowed away from the shore. The defeated sailors didn't seem inclined to put up any fight. Their weapons had been taken and thrown into the jungle. They watched the pirates row away, dejected.

  


As the longboat reached the Spanish vessel, a shout went up. The lights of a ship had appeared, rounding the western end of the little island. The _Black Pearl. _"Right on schedule," Taylor remarked. Gibbs beamed with pride. His cunning plan had gone off without a hitch.

  


  


  


  


  


With a flourish of his disreputable tricorn hat, Sparrow led Dele onto the deck of the _Venganza_. The pirates let out a cheer. "Dele !" Cookie picked the little girl up, hugging her tightly. She winced at the pressure on her battered ribs. The big pirate stiffened and set her back down on the deck gently. The pirates' grins turned to murderous glares as the light from the ship's lanterns revealed Reyes' abuse. The left side of Dele's face was bruised, her eye nearly swollen shut.

  


Without a word, Cookie turned to Javier Reyes where he stood against the mast, hands bound behind him, and punched him hard in the stomach. The arrogant noble let out a grunt and slumped forward for a moment, then righted himself and spat at the pirate. Cookie flung himself forward, raining blows on the Spaniard's body. 

  


Dele gasped as Cookie pummeled the man viciously. He wasn't going to stop, she realized. "Cookie, no ! You'll kill him," she cried. The furious pirate ignored her. The other men watched stoically. Dele tugged at Sparrow's coat sleeve. "Stop him, Captain," she pleaded.

  


"That's about enough, Isaac," the captain ordered, his voice calm. He put an arm around the little girl's shoulders.

  


The big man nodded, then stepped forward once more and slammed his fist into Reyes' face. "An eye for an eye, Cap'n," he said quietly. The crew of the _Pearl_ nodded their agreement.

  


"Let's finish this," Jack said. Crossing to the rail, he called down to the longboat. "We're commandeerin' this vessel. Mister Gibbs, ye have command of the ship !"

  


"Ay, ay, Cap'n," Gibbs cried. There was a flurry of activity as Gibbs came on board, was reunited with Dele, and selected his crew. 

  


"Come on, then, Dele," said Cookie gently. Carefully, he helped her into the longboat. 

  


She looked back up at Sparrow. "What will you do with the prisoners ?" she asked worriedly. 

  


The captain shrugged, unconcerned. "Maroon 'em, along with the rest of the crew," he said carelessly. "There's water on the island. They'll be able to forage for food. A ship'll come along, eventually." The rogue looked up, spreading his hands as though appealing to the heavens. "Who knows, love, perhaps a stay on this beautiful island will inspire these cutthroats to mend their evil ways..."

  


Mr. Gibbs raised a shaggy eyebrow. "I doubt it. Ye been marooned twice, Jack, and it never seemed to do ye any good." The first mate coughed and turned away from his captain's reproachful look. "Well, lads, ye heard the Cap'n – throw the prisoners overboard !"

  


Cap'n Sparrow climbed into the longboat and stood in the prow, hat at a rakish angle. They rowed back to the _Black Pearl_. Watching, Gibbs shook his head ruefully. "There'll be no livin' with him, now that he's an admiral," he remarked to Mr. Cotton. The wizened sailor grinned as his parrot squawked agreement.

  


  


  


  


  


  


  



	15. Marooned

Back aboard the _Pearl_, the two little girls were reunited amid hugs and squeals of joy. "Ye'd think they'd been best friends all their lives," murmured Anamaria, bemused.

"Della ! I was so worried. You saved my life," Jane babbled. "You silly goose, why did you do it ? You have no idea where the treasure is hidden; that horrible Spaniard could have killed you !" Dele just giggled. The pirates grinned.

-----

"Cap'n, ye gotta do somethin' about that prisoner in the brig," reported Davies. "He's been hollerin' bloody murder, kickin' up an awful fuss. Says he wants to know what ye've done with the rest of the crew of the _Venganza_."

Sparrow sighed. He was looking forward to a celebratory bottle or two of rum. "Can't it wait until mornin', Davies ?"

The sailor frowned. "I'm afraid he'll do himself an injury."

"Bring him to me cabin, then." No need to delay the drinkin' just because the Spanish whelp has his knickers in a twist, thought the captain.

-----

A short while later Juan Carlos de la Cruz was brought to Jack's cabin in shackles. The pirate was seated at ease at the table, working on his fourth glass of rum. The quartermaster sat across from him, enjoying a well-deserved glass or two herself. "For the love of Christ, Sparrow, what have you done with my ship mates ?" demanded the lad, wild-eyed.

"Relax, boy, they're fine. A bit singed, perhaps, but they'll all survive." He leaned back in his chair, propping booted feet on the table. "Even yer beloved Cap'n. Me cook was a bit rough with him, I'm afraid. He sank like a stone when me men tossed him overboard, but he bobbed back up and swam to shore well enough."

"Better than he deserved," commented Anamaria.

"So, you've marooned them, then," said Carlos grimly.

"Aye." Sparrow's eyes twinkled. He raised his glass and drank deeply.

"Very well. You said you would put me ashore in any port I want ? _Por favor_, put me ashore now."

The pirate raised an eyebrow. "Now ? Ye _want _to be marooned ? Ye're crazy, lad." He sketched waves in the air. "It could be months before a ship happens by-"

"If you are a man of your word, Captain Sparrow, put me ashore now."

"Very well." He gave a careless shrug. "If that's what ye want. Care to tell why ?"

De la Cruz nodded curtly. "My brother, he is on that island. He is the only family I have left. I do no wish to be separated from him."

Jack pondered that. He liked Carlos, he really did. It would be easy enough to fetch his brother aboard ...

"Cap'n," murmured Anamaria. The pirate glanced at her, spreading his fingers questioningly. She reached to refill his glass, shaking her head ever so slightly as she did so. Jack caught the hint and nodded. The quartermaster was right. The two young Spaniards would be nothing but trouble. They already had enough trouble aboard the _Pearl_, in the form of their female 'cargo'.

"As ye wish, Carlos me lad. Marooned ye shall be." They trooped on deck. Davies removed the young prisoner's shackles. "Lower the longbo-" before Jack could complete the order, de la Cruz had leaped to the ship's railing.

"We will meet again, Captain Sparrow," he announced decisively. "And if my brother has been harm in any way, I will kill you !" With that he dove, hitting the waves below with barely a splash. The crew watched as the young man swam toward shore.

"Dramatic, ain't he ?" Sparrow commented. He threw back his head and laughed. "Drinks all around," the pirate captain shouted. The crew let out a hearty cheer.


	16. An Accord

The next few days were uneventful as the _Black Pearl_ and the captured _Venganza_ sailed toward Featherstone's hidden treasure cache at a leisurely pace. Jane and Dele, both recovering from their wounds, continued to amaze Anamaria. "Who'd have ever thought they'd turn out to be friends ?" she remarked to Mr. Gibbs when the _Venganza_ drew alongside to take on much needed supplies.

  


"Aye, it's a puzzle," Gibbs agreed, glancing around nervously as Carnehan slipped past carrying a case of rum from Jack's private stock. Fortunately, Cap'n Sparrow's attention was distracted. The new captain of the _Venganza _relaxed slightly, then turned worried eyes toward the female pirate. "No hard feelin's, Anamaria ?" he asked hesitantly.

  


"Course not, Joshamee," she replied instantly. "I'd have done the same thing in the Cap'n's place."

  


"Ah. Good, then," Gibbs stammered, relieved. He leaned closer to the quartermaster and lowered his voice. "Ye do know the Cap'n plans to offer ye command of the _Venganza_ once we get back to Jamaica..."

  


Anamaria's face lit up with happiness for just a moment. Then she hid her feelings behind a truculent glare. Feeling as though her were sailing in treacherous waters, Mr. Gibbs hurriedly changed the subject. He gestured towards the two young girls strolling across the deck nearby. "I thought Jack had lost his mind when he decided to kidnap Lady Jane," he confided. "I were against it from the start; I don't hold with kidnappin'. Not to mention the bad luck involved in havin' females on board. No offense, Anamaria," he added hastily when she raised an eyebrow. "But look at them two girls now," Gibbs said. "Bein' kidnapped might just be the best thing that's ever happened to 'em." 

  


Anamaria shook her head admiringly. "Only Jack could have come up with such a daft scheme, and have it turn out so well." 

  


"_Hmph_." Gibbs' bushy eyebrows drew together in a frown. "It were partly _my_ cunnin' plan too, ye know," he reminded her. 

  


  


  


Lounging against the rail, Cap'n Sparrow studiously avoided looking towards the sailors who were furtively looting his cabin. It amused him to let Joshamee think he was putting one over on him – he'd set the old Royal Navy man straight soon enough. Meanwhile, the pirate's mind was occupied with thoughts of how best to acquire the hidden treasure. The best method being the one that would involve the least amount of work, of course. The sound of girlish laughter as Jane and Dele strolled across the deck drew his attention. Would Jane Featherstone cooperate, or not ?

  


Much to the buccaneer's disappointment, Jane had failed to mutter anything coherent in her fevered sleep, other than pleas for Della to return. As for the little maid... he frowned, one hand waving irritably as he recalled his attempt to get the treasure directions from her. 

  


"Captain Sparrow, it's really not my place to tell you, now that Jane is able to do it herself." Della had said apologetically. Then she had perked up. "But I'm certain Jane will agree to tell you where the treasure is hidden." She'd gazed up at him trustingly. Jack had hidden a smirk; this was going to be too easy.

  


"Aye, Della me love, I'm sure she'll have no objections." Jack had flashed his most sincere smile. "Which is why there's no reason ye can't just tell me the directions yerself," he explained carefully. "Seein' as poor Lady Jane is still weak, ye know ? We'll arrive at the treasure isle in a day or two, love." He'd spread his hands, palms up, the picture of concern. "I'm afraid she won't be up to her full strength. Not to mention her belief that I might torture her." The rogue shook his head sadly. "If ye could save the poor girl the trouble of havin' to recite, and spare her the fear that an interview with me would undoubtedly cause..."

  


"Oh, Captain Sparrow, Jane isn't afraid of you at all any more," Della interrupted. "She knows you're really kind. You're a _good man_, Captain Sparrow." The girl's eyes glowed with hero worship. Horrified, Jack had had to turn away.

  


A good man. Jack scowled so fiercely that Gibbs, glancing his way, nearly fell to his knees and confessed to the theft of the rum. The pirate captain whirled and headed for his cabin. He needed a drink. _A good man_, he thought with disgust. That sort of talk could ruin his reputation.

  


  


  


Several hours had passed when a sharp knock was heard at Cap'n Jack Sparrow's cabin door. "Come in," he called in a surly voice.

  


Jane Featherstone stepped into the room. Without waiting for an invitation, she sat down at the table across from him, her back ramrod straight and her expression as surly as his own. Despite the makeshift sling cradling her arm and her diminutive size, the girl looked formidable. "Are you still sober enough to parlay, Sparrow ?" she asked bluntly. 

  


Jack pushed the bottle of rum aside and raised an eyebrow, considering her. Finally he leaned back in his chair and favored Jane with a cocky grin. "Certainly, love. What's on yer mind ?"

  


"You know perfectly well what's on my mind," she snapped. Jack's grin widened. "Della tells me we will reach the island where my father hid his treasure in a matter of days. I want to make it perfectly clear that I will never tell you the directions. I have come to let you know that I've made my decision. I intend to help my uncle find the treasure."

  


The pirate shrugged. Grabbing the bottle, he took a long drink, hiding his annoyance. "Makes no difference to me, little girl," he slurred. "I told ye before, I'll have the treasure one way or another, regardless of what ye intend to do." He meant it, but the girl's stubborn refusal to cooperate rankled. That, and knowing she had no fear of him. That rankled the most.

  


"I believe you," Jane replied. Sparrow blinked. "You are right, Captain Sparrow. I cannot keep the treasure for myself," the girl went on hastily Her voice trembled just the slightest bit. She suddenly looked very young. Regaining her composure, she lifted her chin and went on haughtily. "That is why I have come to make an agreement with you. I will help my uncle find the treasure, and then, in exchange for a triple share of it, I will see it handed over to you. Without a single shot being fired," she added. 

  


Kohl-lined eyes widened. Abruptly, Jack sat up straight in his chair. "A fair share of the treasure," he said shrewdly, "just as though ye were one of me own crew. Just as I originally proposed."

  


Shaking her head, Jane insisted, "I'm not one of your crew; I'm the one who knows where the gold is. I demand a triple share."

  


Despite himself, the pirate felt a grudging admiration for the little shrew. He shook his own head in response to her audacious demand, the silver trinkets twined in his braids swinging. "A pirate cap'n himself only gets a _double_ share, love," he reminded her, waving two fingers for emphasis. "I'll give ye a share and a half, same as an officer. And a share and a half for Della, too," he added magnaminously. 

  


The girl stamped her foot. "Give me a share and a half ?" she shrilled. "_Give me ?_ You'll give me nothing, you filthy pirate. I'll get a triple share of the gold, because I'll have earned it !"

  


He threw back his head and laughed, then saluted the furious little female, bringing his hand up to his forehead and lowering it smartly. "That's the spirit, love. All right then, ye'll _earn_ a double share of the treasure. And that's me final offer," he added, gold teeth flashing in a wolfish grin.

  


Jane stood and came around the table, looking every inch a young lady of the nobility in her elaborate gown. Staggering a bit, the pirate rose to his feet. She met his eyes confidently. "Very well, Sparrow. A double share. And the same for Della." With great dignity, she held out her hand. Jack almost laughed. "Do we have an accord ?" she asked solemnly.

  


He did laugh then, hearing the pirate phrase, but shook her hand firmly. _The girl might look like a fine lady, but she has the heart of a pirate_, he thought. "Aye, Lady Jane, we have an accord." Grabbing the bottle of rum, he raised it to her in a toast. 

  


The girl gave a sniff of disapproval. "Very well, Captain, I bid you goodnight." She turned and left. Jack was certain he heard her mutter "filthy pirate" just before she closed the door.

  


"Takes one to know one, love," he murmured, then raised the bottle to his lips and drank.


	17. An Act

The day following Jane Featherstone's accord with Cap'n Sparrow was an eventful one. The two reluctant allies spent several hours in the captain's cabin in heated discussion. At one point Anamaria was called in. She left a short while later with a broad grin on her face. For the rest of the afternoon she could be glimpsed hurrying about the ship, collecting assorted strange odds and ends. Cookie caught her taking things from his galley, and sharp words were exchanged. To no one's surprise, Anamaria emerged the winner. Later, Taylor swore he'd seen the female pirate in the hold, apparently trying to catch a rat. The quartermaster refused to answer any questions. "It's for the Cap'n's latest crazy scheme," was all she would say.

Later, Mr. Cotton visited the cabin at the captain's command. He too left in high spirits. "Bloody murder !" shrieked the parrot as they left, only to be promptly shushed by his wizened owner.

Dele was also a frequent visitor, being repeatedly called to the cabin by either Sparrow or young Lady Featherstone. Each time, the former slave seemed more distraught until finally she fled the cabin in tears and took refuge in the galley. "You can tell Cap'n that Dele ain't goin' back in there no more today," Cookie growled later, when a sailor was sent to find her.

"Don't be killin' the messenger, Cookie," the young sailor said defensively. "Cap'n Sparrow said the girl's got to come talk some sense into Lady Jane."

"It's all right," Dele said hastily, rising from a stool. "I'll go."

The big pirate shook his head. "You stay right here, girl. Can't nobody talk sense into neither of 'em. No use tryin'."

"It's not Jane's fault," Dele said loyally. "She's spent so many years keeping that secret. She's just really afraid that if Captain Sparrow finds out the directions, he'll have the crew of the _Pearl_ beat Mr. Townsend's crew to the treasure, and then just sail away and leave her at the mercy of her uncle."

"Cap'n Sparrow never go back on his word like that," Cookie protested.

"I know, but Jane isn't used to being able to trust anyone."

"Not even you," said the big cook shrewdly.

Dele blinked back a sudden rush of fresh tears. "Not even me," she admitted in a small voice. "Jane thinks I'll tell the Captain the directions." The young girl shook her head, feeling anger well up inside her. "I can understand, it's just...she's so _mean_ about it. It just makes me want to shake some sense into her."

"Just leave her alone," the cook advised. "She'll get over it."

-----

The next morning, Dele braced herself for another confrontation when Jane approached her on deck. She had stayed in the galley until late at night, avoiding her former mistress as long as possible. Slipping into the cabin after midnight, Dele had been relieved to find Jane fast asleep. Judging by the look of her, though, Dele suspected that she had really been awake most of the night, as she herself had. "You look tired, Miss Jane," she ventured now.

Jane winced. "Please, Della," she murmured. "It's just Jane." She hesitated, wringing her hands. Her face was as red as her gown. "I...I know that I behaved terribly yesterday..." Her voice trailed off. Unable to meet Dele's eyes, she stood staring at the weathered boards of the deck.

Taking pity on her friend, Dele put her arms around her. "I forgive you." The two girls hugged one another tightly. "It's a very brave thing you're going to do," Dele told her.

"No braver than what you did," Jane responded immediately. The girls were silent for a moment. "You've got a part to play in this plan too, you know."

Dele couldn't help but giggle. "Yes, I know. I can't wait."

-----

The secret island came into view later that day. The _Venganza_ and the _Black Pearl_, twin skull and crossbones flags flying, came as close to the little parcel of land as they dared. Rocky cliffs rose steeply out of the sea on the west side. Breakers crashed against a reef protecting the north side. There didn't appear to be anywhere to land. The buccaneers had no chance to investigate the island any further. Another ship was already anchored just off the reef; Simon Townsend's hired ship the _Jamaica Farewell_.

The pirates lined up along the rails and watched with interest as a longboat was lowered from the _Jamaica Farewell _and Jane's uncle was rowed across to the _Pearl_ by two burly men – the same two bodyguards who had accompanied Townsend back in Del Rio. The men boarded and stood looking around warily.

Sparrow approached them, swaying in the faint breeze like a scarecrow about to topple over. "Welcome aboard, gentlemen," he said with a flourish, flashing a smile. The crew hid smiles of their own as the nobleman's bodyguards exchanged nervous looks; the Cap'n was decidedly wild-eyed.

"Sparrow," Townsend said easily. He stepped forward, the picture of confidence. "I trust you have brought the girl ?" Jack's eyes rolled to the rigging. He gazed skyward as though expecting to see Jane Featherstone dangling from the yardarm. The rat-faced client glanced up, following the pirate's gaze. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, he frowned. "Sparrow ? The girl ?"

Abruptly, Jack's mad, kohl-rimmed eyes shifted back to the man standing in front of him. "That's _Admiral_ Sparrow, ye scurvy dog !" he roared, leveling a shaking finger at Townsend's chest.

Startled, the nobleman took an involuntary step back. "Admiral Sparrow," he amended hastily, raising an eyebrow. The two thugs shifted uneasily and flexed their muscles. Clearly they thought the pirate had completely lost his mind.

Jack smiled a cherubic smile at the three. "That's better," he remarked softly. "Lovely day in the Caribbean, ain't it ?" Whirling abruptly, arms flailing, he bellowed, "Bring the girl !" at the top of his lungs. The visitors flinched.

A door opened, creaking eerily on its hinges. All eyes turned to see Jane Featherstone cringing in the entrance to the stern cabins. Her normally haughty demeanor had altered drastically. Her long hair hung loose and tangled. Her gown was crumpled and stained. The young girl hesitated in the doorway, peering out at the onlookers. "Uncle S-simon..." she stammered piteously. "Is it...is it really you ? H-have you come to rescue me ?"

Just then Cookie appeared behind her, filling the narrow passage with his massive bulk. The pirate cook was easily a match for either of Townsend's burly guards. Cookie shoved Jane forward roughly with one giant paw. In his other hand he held a meat cleaver. "Arr," he shouted, brandishing the cleaver, then turned abruptly and stomped back down the passageway.

Jane Featherstone screamed, using the forward momentum of Cookie's shove to fling herself against Simon Townsend. She clung to the slender man, shoulders shaking with terrified sobs. Jane's uncle's reaction was one of annoyance rather than sympathy. He grabbed her by the shoulders and started to shake her. "Get a hold of yourself !" he snapped. "What is the meaning of this ? Have you lost your mind ?"

Jane's eyes widened in surprise and pain. Her shoulder still hurt from the bullet wound. Her eyes, however, were unusually dry for one who had just been crying hysterically. "Unhand me !" she shrilled. "My mind is perfectly fine." Enraged, she stamped her foot. "How would you expect me to behave, you fool ? Thanks to you, I've been kidnapped by pirates !"

Quickly, Jack regained control of the situation. "She's fine ! Right as rain," he roared, drawing his new longsword. "Fit as a bleedin' fiddle ! Ye're in perfect health, aren't ye, love ?" The pirate advanced on the girl, waving the sword wildly.

Townsend's bodyguards stared stupidly. The drama was progressing too rapidly for them to follow. Belatedly, they started to draw their own swords. Jane blinked at Sparrow, then hastily got back into character. "I-I'm all right, uncle," she cried, ducking behind him. "P-please, just take me away from this horrible place. I-I'll do anything you want," she added.

Jack stopped his advance and pointed at Townsend again. "I've delivered her to ye safe and sound, as promised. Well, except for a small bit of wear and tear," he amended. The noble glared at his niece suspiciously. Just then the door to the stern cabins creaked open once more, revealing Cookie, carrying one of Jane's collection of trunks. As he stepped on deck, the big pirate swung the trunk up and balanced it easily on his massive shoulder. "Ah, here's her luggage now," the captain remarked brightly. He turned to Jane and gave her a beatific smile. "It's been a pleasure havin' ye aboard, milady," he said. An instant later the pirate was scowling and waving his sword again. "Now get her out of me sight !" he howled.

Townsend and his men were only too happy to comply.


	18. Anchor

Jane Featherstone huddled in the prow of the longboat as the bodyguards, McNeil and Cooper, rowed back to the _Jamaica Farewell_. Her uncle Simon Townsend slouched in the stern, turning in his seat to glare back at first one pirate ship, then the other. "I take it Javier Reyes is out of the picture," Townsend said finally.

"Yes," Jane replied. "He attempted to kidnap me. From the pirates who had already kidnapped me," she added, flashing a glare at the three men. "There was a terrible battle," the girl added. "I was wounded...but that wasn't the worst of it."

Townsend had gone back to watching the ships, apparently uninterested in his niece's tale of the hardships she'd endured, but Jane forged ahead, determined to play her role. She leaned forward, catching Cooper's eyes. "The pirates didn't torture me t-too much, knowing that if they killed me, no one would be able to find the treasure. B-but, my maid..." her eyes widened. Both muscle-bound bodyguards were listening intently now. "Th-the things they did to her," Jane wailed, "the screams...it was h-horrible." She slumped over, hiding her face as she broke into fresh sobs. 

Cooper and McNeil exchanged looks. "I've heard stories about Jack Sparrow," McNeil ventured. "Totally mad, that's what they say he is." Jane watched the thugs through her fingers and suppressed an urge to smile. The plan was already starting to work.

*****

Back aboard the _Pearl_, Dele and Anamaria were teasing Cookie mercilessly. "_Arr_," Dele repeated for the third time, giggling helplessly. 

"Wot kind of a word is arr ?" Anamaria laughed. "Wot does it even _mean_ ?" 

"I got nervous," Cookie shrugged. "We'll see how the two of you do, when it your turn for playactin'." 

On deck, Taylor approached Jack. "Wot now, Cap'n ?"

The pirate grimaced. "Wait and see wot Townsend does next. There has to be a safe landin' on the island. We wait and let Lady Jane direct him to it." Jack's face brightened as a thought occurred to him. He spread his arms in an expansive gesture. "Drinks all 'round," he cried, to the delight of the crew. "Lower the longboat," the pirate ordered, swaggering to the rail. "Taylor, tell Anamaria she's in charge. I'm goin' over to the _Venganza_ – Cap'n Gibbs owes me a drink."

"Ay, ay, Cap'n !" Taylor grinned. Having to wait for their opponent to make the first move might rankle, but the opportunity to get good and drunk while waiting helped to take away the sting.

*****

"Lay anchor between Scylla and Charybdis," Jane recited clearly. 

"Eh ? Wot's that, then ?" The captain of the _Jamaica Farewell_, a stolid man with a long greasy queue of graying hair, scratched his head in puzzlement.

"Greek myths, Captain," Jane explained when her uncle remained silent. "Scylla was a monster with six heads. Charybdis was a huge whirlpool."

The captain blinked. "Don't know about whirlpools," he said slowly, "but I sure never heard tell of any six-headed monsters. Not in the Caribbean."

Simon Townsend rolled his eyes. "Sail around the island," he ordered. "Have every man keep a lookout for a whirlpool. And anything that might _look_ like a six-headed monster," he added.

Dusk found the _Jamaica Farewell_ anchored on the eastern side of the rocky little island. A narrow valley ended in a strip of sandy beach. To the south, the surf crashed through a narrow channel, each successive wave forming a whirlpool as it retreated out to sea. On the other side, a tiny islet, no more than a single hill of black, wave-washed rock, jutted high out of the ocean. Palm trees crowned the top of the crag, their slender trunks giving the impression of snake-like necks. "Fancy that," the captain muttered, peering through his spyglass at the beach. "That be the only safe place to land on the whole bleedin' island." 

Meanwhile, Jane had not been idle. The little girl stuck close to Cooper and McNeil, who stuck close to one another. "When the pirates were finally finished with poor little Della, the cook chopped her corpse into pieces," she murmured, "and...and th-threw them into the ocean." A sailor working nearby ambled closer to hear better.

"You've been through a terrible time, Miss," said McNeil, awkwardly.

"Oh, I _have_, Mr. McNeil, I have," Jane replied, raising her voice for the sailors' benefit. "I'm just so...so relieved to have escaped. I h-hope none of us ever has any dealings with those vicious p-pirates ever again." 

"Seems likely we'll have to fight to keep the treasure," said Cooper. "Them two ships don't show no sign of takin' their leave, now do they ?" Indeed, the lights of the _Venganza_ and the _Black Pearl_ could be seen where they lay at anchor not far away. 

"Aye," commented another sailor who had joined the eavesdropping. "And everyone knows the _Black Pearl_ takes no prisoners..." Grimly, his crew mates nodded agreement.

"Don't talk that way in front of the girl," growled McNeil as Jane began to sob quietly. 

"I-I'm going to my c-cabin now," she whimpered. She left the bodyguards whispering with a growing crowd of sailors. All in all, a very good start, she thought to herself.

*****

"Jacinto..." Juan Carlos de la Cruz struggled up the steep slope, calling for his brother. "Jacinto !"

"Here..." The call came from a clearing at the top of the hill. Carlos pushed impatiently past some brush and flung himself down on the grass next to a boy of about fourteen. "What's wrong ?" the youth asked. 

"You shouldn't wander off. I was worried."

Jacinto laughed. "Did you think I could get lost ? The whole island can't be more than three miles across. You worry too much, Carlito." The boy jumped to his feet on impulse and drew a cutlass from his belt. "Come on, spar with me. Let's have a little fun."

"You're crazy. We're marooned. We could starve to death – and you want to play ?"

"Afraid I'll beat you ?" 

"Not likely." Carlos rose and drew his own blade, a battered pirate's cutlass retrieved from the undergrowth near the beach. He pushed his hair out of his eyes. The younger boy saluted him, then leapt in with an attack. The game quickly turned into a lesson. "No, no, your footwork is all wrong. Step here, like this..." 

Finally, the older brother called a halt. "We should get back to the others. Come on," he urged when Jacinto failed to answer. The boy stood looking out to sea. "Why bother ?" Carlos teased. "It could be months before a ship comes."

"Really ? Then what do you call that ?" 

Carlos turned impatiently. "Don't joke like that. There's no-" His mouth dropped open as he followed his brother's rapt gaze. 

"_A ship ! A ship !_" The two Spaniards raced one another down the hill, shouting. Their rescuers had arrived.


	19. Ashore

"There, now, don't that look pretty, boys ?" Cookie stood back and surveyed his handiwork with satisfaction. Another pirate held out a water skin and poured a stream over the big man's bloodied hands so he could wash them. "Thanks, Carnehan."

The red-haired sailor squinted up at the mess hanging between two trees. "Ye sure they'll see it there, Cookie ?"

The pirate cook shrugged. "They got to come ashore on that beach there," he commented, jerking his head towards the narrow strip of sand visible through the trees. The sun, still low in the bright morning sky, reflected dazzlingly off the water. "They ought to see it. Soon enough, they gonna be able to smell it. And hear it." 

Carnehan grimaced with disgust. Several fat black flies were already buzzing in the air above their heads. Taylor squatted nearby, pausing to peer out across the waves at the _Jamaica Farewell_. "We'll have fresh meat tonight," the short pirate grinned, rubbing his hands gleefully as he tied the legs of a young goat together with some twine. "Good work, Carney me lad."

Carnehan smiled modestly and hefted the makeshift spear he carried; a wicked-looking pirate's dagger tied to a sturdy stick. "T'weren't nothin'," he murmured.

"Well, we got to get hid for now," ordered Cookie. "No tellin' where the landin' party goin' to go once they get ashore." Hastily, Carnehan and Taylor hefted the carcass of the goat onto the spear. They followed Cookie, carrying it between them. Single file, the three buccaneers turned and slipped away, melting into the thick forest.

*****

"From the top of the mizzen mast, follow the stream." 

"That's all ?" Townsend asked skeptically. "Awfully vague." The noble frowned at his niece, who looked back up at him defiantly. "Sure theres nothing more ?"

"From the top of the mizzen mast, follow the stream," Jane repeated stubbornly. "Father deliberately made the directions vague," she added. "You'll have to determine for yourself what he meant."

The slender man snarled in frustration and turned to the captain. "Send a boy up to the top of the mizzen mast, then," he snapped. "One must be able to see the course of the stream from a higher vantage point."

The captain bellowed orders and a lad ascended the shrouds with a spyglass. Minutes passed. "I can't see nothin' but trees, Cap'n," came the cry. 

"Look carefully, Billy, Mister Townsend says ye can see the stream from up there." 

Another minute passed. The cabin boy's shrug could be clearly seen by all on the main deck. "Nothin' but trees," he shouted down.

The grizzled captain echoed the shrug. "Beggin' yer pardon, sir. He don't see nothin' but -"

"I heard him, you fool," snapped Townsend. Awkwardly, the noble began to climb the shrouds himself. Jane couldn't help but smirk as her uncle struggled, hauling himself up. His fashionable shoes slipped on the ropes and his pale hands became smeared with tar. Catching herself, the young girl changed the smirk into a demure smile. "Give me that," Uncle Simon panted, snatching the spyglass from the cabin boy, who was only too glad to scamper back down to the deck. 

Clutching the mast with one arm, Townsend held the instrument to his eye and peered through it for several long minutes, scanning the island. Finally, with a sharp motion, he put the spyglass in his coat pocket. Curses began to rain down on the ears of the onlookers from the nobleman's precarious perch thirty feet above. Jane resisted the urge to giggle. Then her eyes met those of the cabin boy, and she succumbed. Billy grinned back at her, stifling his own laughter. Abruptly, the sounds stopped and Townsend descended the shrouds as awkwardly as he had climbed them. Red-faced and silent, he stalked to the rail.

Long moments passed before Uncle Simon turned sharply and beckoned to Jane. "Come here, my darling niece." His sneer made a mockery of the endearment. He pointed to the island. "There, at the north end. It slopes up." His finger jabbed to the south. "That promontory, there. One could, if one were _clever_, imagine the silhouette of a ship. North, the poop. South, the prow. Agreed, _dearest_ ?"

"Then that higher point, there, would be the mizzen mast," Jane commented, pointing. "_If _one were clever, Uncle dear."

"Captain ! Get a landing party ready, now ! My dear, _clever_ niece and I are going ashore."

*****

Cap'n Jack Sparrow stood at the rail of the _Venganza_, feet shuffling, one hand waving as though making a point in some argument only he could hear. His kohl-rimmed gaze shifted between the _Jamaica Farewell_ and the shoreline. Nothing of interest could be seen. The buccaneer fidgeted restlessly.

"Come on, then, Jack, let's have a game or somethin' to pass the time," Gibbs suggested. "Anamaria and Dele are just as fidgety as ye are, and they have to stay below out of sight. There's nothin' to be done here. Come on down to me cabin for a friendly hand or two of cards."

Sparrow turned away from the rail and raised an eyebrow at his friend. "Ye're the worst card cheat in the Caribbean, Gibbs," he chided.

The old sailor turned red. "Am not," he denied ineffectually.

"Ye are too," Jack said cheerfully. "But ye do owe me a drink - of me own rum," the pirate added pointedly. He grinned as Gibbs turned even redder.

Soon they were all seated at a round table in Gibb's new cabin. Anamaria poured three generous glasses of rum and handed them around. Wide-eyed, Dele sat across from her and watched Mister Gibbs expertly shuffle a deck of worn, greasy cards. "Mr. Gibbs, sir, I- I don't know how to play cards," the girl protested.

Anamaria laughed. "Don't worry. Ye're about to learn. From the two worst card cheats in the Caribbean." 

"Takes one to know one, love," Jack shot back. Ignoring their sparring, Mister Gibbs began to deal the cards.

*****

Sweating in the hot sun, sailors from the _Jamaica Farewell_ rowed ashore, navigating past the treacherous whirlpool. The men beached the boat and Simon Townsend held out his arm to help his haughty young niece step onto the sand. Gripping cutlasses and pistols, the sailors began to make their way inland, followed by Jane Featherstone, clutching a parasol. Simon Townsend and his two guards took up places at the rear of the landing party. They had not gone more than a hundred feet into the underbrush when one of the first sailors in line stopped with a cry.

"Holy mother of -" his voice trailed off as he turned away, retching. The other men gaped at the dripping entrails dangling between two palm trees. Flies swarmed. Several of the sailors covered their faces with bandannas against the rotting stench. 

"L-Look at that," stammered Cooper, pointing. A bundle of straw and sticks hung in the center of the mess, smeared with blood. The thug's eyebrows drew together. "That...that ain't natural," he commented, "what do you think it means, boss ?"

Jane stepped forward before Townsend could answer. She looked at the grisly display coolly, showing no emotion. "I suppose I should have mentioned this before," she began. "I apologize, truly I do. With all I've been through – the kidnapping, the torture, my slave's murder..."

"Get on with it," ordered Townsend, frowning.

"Well, you see, when my father hid his treasure here," Jane coughed delicately. "Well, I'm sorry to say, but the island is cursed." One of the younger sailors gasped. The others began to mutter, shifting nervously.

"Cursed. Really," drawled Townsend. He sneered. "What nonsense."

"Oh, no, I'm afraid not, Uncle dearest," the girl replied apologetically. She turned to the tense knot of men, her eyes wide with concern. "Father hired a voodoo priestess to protect the treasure. I'm afraid...the entire island is under a curse." As the sailors' muttering turned to loud refusals to go any further, Jane adjusted her parasol so Uncle Simon couldn't see her smile. 


	20. A Hand of Cards

"For the last time, the island is _not_ under a curse !" Simon Townsend stood mopping his brow in the hot Caribbean sunlight, glaring at the anxious sailors. The men shifted uneasily but refused to move forward. The noble sighed heavily. "Try to think rationally about this," he lectured, voice heavy with sarcasm, "Ian Featherstone buried his treasure here, correct ?" More nervous shuffling. Townsend fumed. "It's a simple question, really. Anyone ? Cooper ?"

"Um, right. I mean, correct, boss," the bodyguard stammered.

"_Correct_. And when a buccaneer buries treasure, does he intend to leave it buried forever, to rot ? Hmm ? Or does he intend to return at some later time for the loot ?"

The assembled sailors variously gazed at the cloudless blue sky, the sandy ground beneath their feet, or the grisly token hanging from the palm trees. McNeil and Cooper exchanged glances. Cooper nudged his compatriot encouragingly. McNeil licked his lips and ventured a reply. "He...meant to come back for it later ?" 

Uncle Simon clapped his hands together in mock glee. "Yes ! Very good, McNeil. You know, I'm reminded on a daily basis of why I hired you two – your impressive intelligence."

"Thank you, sir." The pair beamed. 

Townsend rolled his eyes. Whirling to face the sailors, he continued. "So, if Ian Featherstone did indeed bury his treasure here, on this very island, fully intending to return and fetch it later, why in heaven's name would he place the island under a curse ? Why curse his own loot ?" The noble's voice had risen to a shout. "Does that make the least bit of sense, even to you dunderheads ?" 

"Well, beggin' yer pardon, sir, but the curse wouldn't apply to Cap'n Featherstone, now, would it ?" said one of the sailors. Mutters of agreement from the rest of the crew greeted this. Emboldened, the fellow continued. "He'd have had the place cursed so no _other _scallywag could happen along and steal the swag. In case he were double-crossed, like."

"Finally, someone whose brain hasn't been addled by the heat," Townsend murmured. "Exactly," he cried. "Very good." He smiled at the sailor like a schoolmaster at a favorite pupil. The crewmen exchanged bewildered looks. "What ? Do you still not understand ? Try and keep up. We are here to retrieve the treasure for my dear, orphaned neice." Feigning a loving smile, he gestured for Jane to come forward. Reluctantly, the girl took her place at her uncle's side. He put one arm around her shoulders. "My niece, Miss Jane Featherstone." Seeing the sailors' continuing blank looks, the slender man elaborated with mock patience. "Ian Featherstone's daughter and the rightful heir to the treasure." Several of the men began to comprehend. Townsend nodded encouragingly. "Since I am..._we are_... acting on her behalf and _in her best interests_," he emphasized, "any so-called curse that might exist, _does not apply to us_ !"

"Ah -" "Makes sense, don't it ?" "He's got a point, he does -" At last the men were convinced and the landing party proceeded towards the interior of the isle. Uncle Simon kept a firm grip on Jane's arm. His niece hid her annoyance behind a prim smile. After all, the treasure had to be found and brought forth. There was plenty of time to instill the necessary fear in the crew. The girl's smile widened ever so slightly. When she and the crew of the _Black Pearl _were finished with her uncle's hired men, they would practically beg to hand the treasure over to the pirates.

*****

Aboard the _Venganza_, Joshamee Gibbs was having trouble hiding his exasperation. For the past hour, Anamaria and Dele had won nearly every hand. Irritably, the old sailor reached for the bottle of rum and poured himself another glassful. Anamaria dealt the cards. Gibbs perked up considerably when he saw what he'd been dealt. A good strong hand of clubs. He and Jack would win this hand. He drummed his fingers idly on the table; a time-honored signal for his partner to let him take the bid. He glanced over at Jack, who ignored him, ordering his own cards. Gibbs moved his foot to nudge Jack's under the table. To his surprise, his boot met with empty air. "I think I'll start the biddin' with...diamonds," Jack announced a moment later, flashing a gold-toothed grin at Dele. Gibbs' bushy eyebrows rose, then drew together in a scowl as he glanced over his hand again. Not a red card in the lot. Meanwhile, Sparrow had laid a single card on the table.

"A bleedin' _ten_ !" Anamaria chuckled at the old buccaneer's angry outburst. "Wot, Jackie, have ye lost yer mind ?" 

Beads flashed as Sparrow cocked his head innocently. "Why ? No diamonds, Joshamee ? Pity. I thought ye'd back me up." Gibbs' jaw dropped open. He shut it with a snap and resumed glaring at his beatiful hand of clubs. All wasted, thanks to Jack. 

Dele hesitated, one hand poised over her cards. "So, if I have any diamonds, I should lay them down now ?"

"Aye, that would be a good idea," Anamaria said dryly. The girl placed a king, queen, and jack of diamonds on the table. "Given the chance, we'd have bid diamonds too," the quartermaster said, not bothering to conceal her grin. Gibbs buried his head in his hands. 

"Ye wouldn't have the ace, would ye, love ?" Jack queried helpfully. 

"Oh ! Yes, I do ! Thank you, Captain Sparrow." Dele added the ace of diamonds to her pile. 

The old buccaneer had had enough. He threw his cards down in disgust. "No sense playin' out that hand," he snapped, glaring across the table. Sparrow blinked kohl-rimmed eyes at his partner, the picture of wounded innocence. 

Dele looked concerned. "Did I do something wrong, Mr. Gibbs ?"

"Nah, ye're doin' fine, Della, he's just bein' a big baby," scoffed Anamaria. "It's just beginner's luck, Joshamee. Calm down."

"Well Della's luck don't explain Jack biddin' on diamonds with nothin' but a _ten_ in his hand," the old pirate muttered as the object of his ire gathered the cards and began to shuffle them with practiced ease. "Good thing we're just playin' for fun," Gibbs added with another glare at Jack.

"That's it !" Sparrow cried, slamming a beringed hand down on the table. Dele jumped. "Ye know I can't play for fun, Joshamee. It's no good; we have to play for keeps. We _are_ pirates after all, ain't we ?"

"No problem with that, Cap'n" Anamaria grinned, pulling out a small purse of coins. In a moment, pirate pockets were emptied of coins from half a dozen lands.

"I-I can't play for keeps," Dele reminded them, eyeing the gold. "I have nothing to wager."

"Why, that's all right, Della me love," Jack smiled his most reassuring smile as he began to deal the cards. "With yer luck, and with our esteemed quartermaster as yer partner, ye can't lose. He leaned back casually in his chair, gesturing for the still-furious Gibbs to pour another glass of rum. "But just to be fair, just in case, mind ye..." The pirate captain leaned forward again, fingers sketching landscapes in the air. "Ye can tell us the rest of the directions to the treasure. That'll be yer wager. Fair enough ?"

"Go ahead, Della, it's not as though Lady Jane hasn't already led her uncle right to the swag," Anamaria encouraged.

"Well, I suppose there's no harm in it now, is there ?" Dele picked up her cards and began to sort them. The little girl frowned, concentrating on the unaccustomed task. Gibbs stifled a grunt of surprise as Jack's foot suddenly kicked him sharply in the ankle. The two scallywag's eyes met across the table. Busily ordering her hand, Dele never noticed Cap'n Sparrow give his partner a sly wink. Gibbs frowned, then grinned as realization slowly dawned. Anamaria rolled her eyes. Little Della's winning streak had come to an abrupt end.


	21. The Hanging Tree

The Caribbean sky slowly turned a deep blue, almost black, as dusk settled over the treasure isle. Seated on a log in front of the small tent that had been pitched for her, Jane Featherstone pulled off her gloves and irritably wiped her brow with a lacy handkerchief. A cool evening breeze had just begun to ease the stifling heat, but now smoke from the sailors' campfire drifted across the clearing as the men prepared an evening meal. "More salt pork, I suppose," Jane muttered to herself, annoyed. She wanted a bath and a decent meal. "And a real bed to sleep in." For a moment, the young girl wished she had her maid there to complain to – someone on which to vent her bad mood. She shook her head, the target of her anger shifting to her own unworthy thoughts. "No. Della's my friend." Jane sighed. She was lonely, she realized. Della had always been there for her, even before she'd learned to value her friendship. She squared her shoulders resolutely. For now, she had her role to play. She and Della would be reunited soon enough – and with their own double shares of the pirate treasure.

-----

The longboat had made several trips back and forth between the _Venganza_ and the _Black Pearl _during the long afternoon. Now Cap'n Jack Sparrow and the latest pirate landing party waited impatiently for night to fall so they could go ashore. Jack squinted at the island through his spyglass, drumming his fingers on the rail. Mr. Gibbs shifted restlessly by his side. "Poor little Della," the first mate began. "Do ye think she took it too hard, the way we tricked her into tellin' ye them directions ?"

"Ah, give it a rest, Joshamee." Jack felt a vague twinge which might have been his under-used conscience asserting itself, or it may have been indigestion. Aye, that's all it was, just a touch of indigestion, the pirate captain assured himself. The little maid had given them all a look of surprise and reproach when she'd realized that she'd been duped. "She'll get over it." Jack wagged a finger under Gibbs' nose. "It's just as well Della learns not to be so trustin'... 'specially not of scallywags like us, Mister Gibbs." And now there'll be no more of that business of 'yer such a good man, Cap'n Sparrow', he thought with grim satisfaction.

"I suppose yer right, Jack." Gibbs sighed heavily. "Ye do intend to give Della a double share of the swag, like ye said ?" he asked dubiously. "And Lady Jane too ?" Jack hesitated for just a moment, a hesitation that the first mate noticed. "Jackie..." he began warningly.

Sparrow threw up his hands. "Of course, Mister Gibbs, of course." He sniffed loudly, adopting an air of wounded dignity. "Ye cut me to the heart, Joshamee. Miss Jane and I have an accord. I may be a buccaneer, but I keep to the code." He laid one hand over his heart with a self-righteous look.

"The code," Gibbs mused, chastened. "Aye, Jack, that ye do. I'm sorry, Cap'n."

"Ye should be." Sparrow resumed watching through his spyglass. There was no light visible on the tiny island, no sign of Simon Townsend's camp. Satisfied that the darkness was now sufficient to hide their nocturnal activities, he spun around and called to the waiting crew. "Lower the longboat !"

-----

Simon Townsend and the crew of the _Jamaica Farewell _were awakened by the raucous cries of tropical birds. The sun was just rising over the waves, promising another hot day, when the treasure hunting party set out along the stream bed they'd located the day before. The stream had dried up long ago. Uncle Simon kicked at a rock. "Turn south at the hanging tree," Jane announced.

"Well, you heard her. Keep a lookout for an unusual tree," Townsend instructed, his voice sharp. "Maybe shaped like a gallows, or something," he muttered to himself, peering about at the surrounding jungle.

Not too long after, they rounded a bend and discovered a lone live oak in a clearing. Lightning had split the top, leaving a charred and blasted stump towering some forty feet over their heads. One massive limb survived, jutting out at a right angle from the trunk It did look somewhat like a hangman's gallows, all on its own, Jane mused. The effect had been enhanced by a heavy rope noose slung over the branch. But it was the body hanging from the noose that caused her to let out a long, piercing scream and faint into her uncle's reluctant arms.

-----

Dele and Anamaria were sitting in the shade of a palm tree, dangling their bare feet in the cool waves when the scream split the air, making birds fly up from their perches even this far across the little island. Dele started up with a cry, "Jane ! Oh no, what if she's been hurt ?"

"She's fine," Anamaria assured the girl. "She's play-actin', remember ? They must have found the Cap'n's latest harum-scarum."

"Do you really think Jane's uncle will be frightened ?" Dele asked skeptically.

"Him ? Nah," Anamaria snorted. "But I'll wager them sides of beef he calls his bodyguards are wettin' their pants 'bout now." She ignored Dele's disapproving look at the word 'wager' and went on, "Sailors are supersticious. This is one of the Cap'n's daft schemes that ought to work like a charm. Although I do think it would have been better if Lady Jane had done the writin'," she murmured after a moment, "instead of Jack."

-----

"Simon townsend be ware." Cooper pursed his lips, laboriously sounding out the lettering on the placard around the neck of the body suspended from the hanging tree. "If ye rob me darelin dotter, cursd ye shall be." Jane lay limp in her uncle's arms. Giving his niece a look of distaste, the slender noble passed her like a sack of potatoes to McNeil.

"It does look like you, boss," the burly guard said with a shudder.

"It's an effigy," sneered Townsend. "A dummy, you dummy !" The sailors muttered, repeating the warning to one another after Cooper read it out loud. Simon Townsend gave them all a withering glare. "The head is made from a _coconut_," he pointed out, "surely you can't believe there is really a curse." The coconut head sported painted features; small, close-set eyes, a pointy nose, a thin, straggly mustache. Townsend stroked his upper lip absently. "Surely I'm not that..." he murmured. Catching himself, he thrust his hands into his pockets angrily. His voice raised to a shout. "This is Sparrow's work, you fools. On ! On to the treasure ! Oh, wake up," he snapped, shaking Jane roughly. "Tell me the next set of directions. I don't want this to take all week."

Jane allowed herself to be roused from her 'faint' and meekly complied with her uncle's demand, hiding her satisfaction all the while. The sailors bunched together, clearly frightened. Sparrow's plan was working well. There was just one thing that bothered her. "How did Sparrow's band of cutthroats get to the tree first ?" she wondered.

"Eh ? What was that ?"

"Nothing, Uncle Simon, dear. Nothing at all."

-----

Author's notes: I apologize for the long delay in updating. Many thanks to all who took the time to review the first twenty chapters – pingpong5, Bulletproof Dork, Nini-Mouse, Electrocuted Sheep, panther7x, Alex Black, Alori Kesi Aldercy, Chrysta, COTG, Dalas Ray, Idril Falastari, lemluvspirates, midnights shadow, Ms Brooklyn, sparrowfaerie, and Talamh. I'll be sticking with this story until it is finished – thanks for the encouragement.


	22. Mutiny

The unlikely band of pirates slipped through the darkness. First came the captain, Jack Sparrow, weaving erratically on the solid terrain, arms windmilling as he alternately slapped at mosquitoes and hacked a path through the thick undergrowth. Cookie followed close behind, several inches taller than the captain and easily twice as wide across the shoulders. He chopped methodically at the vines and branches Sparrow missed, clearing the way for the others to follow. A pair of women came next, or rather, a woman and a young girl, carrying the smoky lanterns that were the only source of light under the closely crowding trees. "Yer daft, Jack," muttered Anamaria. "There's no way we'll find the loot in this mess. It's as dark as the hold of the _Pearl_. And for what ?" she added irritably. Her lantern swung, casting wild, looming shadows as the quartermaster swatted a mosquito. "We're just going to have to leave it for the other crew to find tomorrow."

"But Ana me love, I just want to _see_ it," Jack said plaintively. They continued on, two mismatched pirates bringing up the rear. Carnehan, almost as tall as Jack with a wild halo of red curls, held a brace of pistols cocked and ready. Behind him was Taylor, shorter even than Dele and bald as an egg. He glanced over his shoulder every few steps, clutching a dagger and a battered cutlass in his hands. An occasional wilder-than-usual swing of Sparrow's machete sent the big cook dodging out of the way, but otherwise their progress was steady, though slow and miserable in the humid, bug-infested darkness. The ground began to rise more steeply and soon the odd group was out of the jungle and climbing over rocks. At last Jack stopped, holding up a hand for the others to halt as well. Anamaria held her lantern high; solid rock blocked their way. "It ought to be right about here," Jack murmured, holding his arms out wide and swaying along the cliff face. Anamaria rolled her eyes.

"Look here, Cap'n." Taylor stood in front of a cleft in the rocks. He motioned for Dele and Anamaria to bring their lanterns forward.

Crouching, Sparrow slipped inside. A beringed hand emerged from the opening moments later, gesturing imperiously. "Yer lamp if ye please, Della me love." The rest of the group watched, bemused, as the light of the lantern bobbed away, disappearing around a bend in the tunnel. Anamaria shrugged and gestured for Cookie to enter. With a grunt the big man was able to squeeze in. The others followed.

They found themselves in a passage that widened slightly but remained low enough that everyone but Taylor had to stoop. Cookie resorted to crawling on hands and knees. After a few yards they found themselves in a small, dry cave, perhaps twenty feet across, with a stone ceiling almost as high. The big cook let out a sigh of relief as he rose to his feet. There were nearly a dozen iron-bound strongboxes piled on the sandy floor of the little space, coated with grime and secured with heavy chains and padlocks.

Cap'n Jack knelt in front of one of the closest chests, fingers fumbling as he pulled a slender metal pick from among the trinkets dangling in his braids. Dropping his cutlass, Taylor produced a similar lock pick from one of his pockets. The rest of the group watched silently as the locks were opened and the lids of the chests flung back with a rattle of chains. The gleam of gold seemed to fill the chamber, winking in the flickering light of the lamps. As one, the pirates let their breath out in a low moan of greedy anticipation. Dele realized that she too had been holding her breath. "Gold !" breathed Jack, thrusting his arms elbow-deep into the first chest. "Lovely, beautiful _gold_ !" Dele watched in amazement as the buccaneers went wild.

"Spanish doubloons. Sovereigns. Pieces of eight," Taylor half-sobbed, picking up the coins and rubbing them across his face and over his bald head, as though bathing himself in gold. Laughing, Anamaria pushed him aside, pulling out necklaces and bracelets and slipping them on. Jack and Carnehan were flinging fistfuls of coins into the air, laughing as they fell around them in a glittering shower. Even Cookie was caught up in the treasure lust, turning a gem-encrusted golden chalice in his hands, holding it up so the rubies and pearls reflected the lamp light.

"Don't be shy, love." Jack's shadow loomed across the roof of the cave as he leaned close to Dele, gold teeth catching the light as he grinned. "Some of this be yers too. Oh look, wot's that ?" His dark eyes sparkled with mischief as he reached into Dele's hair, pulling a big golden coin from behind her ear. The pirate captain walked the coin across his knuckles, making it spin and dance before tossing it to her. The little maid caught it and gaped at it. That single coin was more money than she'd ever held in her life – and there, mere feet away, were chests filled with hundreds and hundreds more of them. Smiling, Cookie looped the end of a heavy chain around Dele's neck. The other end dragged across the floor.

"It's so long," she said, confused. "So heavy. How could even a rich person... Even a king couldn't wear this."

Sparrow lifted the chain off of Dele's shoulders and hefted its weight in practiced hands. "It's not for wearin', love," he explained. "It's tribute, stolen from a Spanish ship. Ye can spend the links in Port Royal or New Providence or Tortuga, just like ye would coins. It'll be chopped up when we divide the swag among the crew. _After_ old Townsend hauls it out of here for us," he added pointedly. "Come on, we've got to put it back now, lads."

Taylor groaned. He'd been stuffing coins into his pockets while Jack spoke. Now he began to put them back reluctantly, one by one, as the others scooped up the scattered loot and replaced it in the treasure chests. "Just a few, Cap'n ?" he pleaded.

"Later, Taylor, later," Jack soothed.

"Should we leave another... surprise, Cap'n ?" Anamaria flashed a ruthless grin.

Stroking his beard, Sparrow frowned as he contemplated the idea. "No," he finally decided. "We'll wait until tomorrow night, after they find the swag and start carryin' it out of here." He grinned back at the quartermaster. "That's when the curse will take effect, savvy ?" The pirates left the cave in high spirits, leaving the gold for the hapless crew of the _Jamaica Farewell_ to discover. "Poor swabs," Jack murmured. "I almost feel sorry for 'em." Anamaria grinned again. "Almost."

-----

"Carlos, this is wrong," Jacinto hissed. They stood at the ship's rail, whispering. Carlos de la Cruz shifted nervously, eyes darting from the deck to the rigging nearby, alert for eavesdroppers. It had been three days since the Dutch ship _Zwaardvis_ had rescued the Spaniards from the tiny islet where they'd been marooned by Jack Sparrow. Two days since Javier Reyes had led his crew in a brutal mutiny, wresting control of the _Zwaardvis_ from her captain and crew.

Irritably, Carlos pushed a stray lock of hair back off his forehead. "I know, Jacinto, I know. But what do you want me to do about it ?"

The boy's eyebrows drew down in a scowl. "I don't know, Carlito. You have to do _something_." He brightened. "Set the Dutch sailors free-"

"_¡No posible !"_ Carlos interrupted sharply. "Please, Jacinto, listen to me," he went on. "Reyes has the keys to the brig. There is no way to free the prisoners. Even if I try, they are unarmed, outnumbered. It is not possible."

The boy's shoulders slumped. They leaned against the rail in silence for several minutes. "There is a way..." Jacinto said slowly. "Challenge Reyes to a duel !"

"A duel ?" The older brother scoffed. "You're crazy. The man has no honor. He'll just order the others to kill me."

"No, he can't." Jacinto was adamant. "The men were ready to mutiny when Reyes refused to ransom you from _Capitán_ Sparrow."

"Only because you incited them to." Carlos ruffled his brother's curls affectionately.

Jacinto pushed his hand away, annoyed. "So ? I'll incite them again. You know they only followed his orders out of fear."

"And it is that same fear that will make them obey Reyes now,_ hermano_."

"No," the boy repeated. "All they need is a leader, someone to stand up to Reyes. Luis and Vargas will back you up, and Manuel, too."

Carlos snorted. "Wishful thinking. We could count on Luis, maybe. Maybe. That's three against twelve. It's too dangerous, Jacinto."

"Soon we'll catch up to Sparrow. Then we'll be forced to fight the English pirates. But you're right, of course." The boy's voice dripped sarcasm. "A duel with Reyes is far more dangerous than fighting two ships loaded with English cutthroats... and don't forget the _Venganza_'s guns," he added acidly.

"I don't know-"

"You can do it, Carlos." Jacinto's wide grey eyes, so like his older brother's, gazed up at him intently.

Abruptly, Carlos nodded. "It seems I have no choice." He squared his shoulders. "Well, if I am to lead a mutiny, better to get started now. The sooner to get it over with."

Jacinto grinned. "Just give me a minute to tell Luis."


	23. The Treasure Discovered

Juan Carlos de la Cruz looked over the small group of young sailors who stood before him. Jacinto had been as good as his word. Not only Luis and Vargas, but Manuel and two other men stood ready to support him in his bid to wrest control of the _Zwaardvis_ from Lord Javier Reyes. Carlos smiled at his little brother, then turned to the others, completely serious. "If it comes to a fight, we are seven against eight," he pointed out. "And it _will_ come to a fight. I won't blame you if you decide to back out now."

"Our swords are yours, _Capitán_," Luis responded fervently, drawing his rusty cutlass from its scabbard.

"_Si_," the others echoed.

Seven men – no, six – he couldn't count Jacinto, despite the boy's courage. Seven against eight, and none of them with a decent weapon. Carlos hid his dismay behind a cocky grin. "Let's reclaim our honor, men." He swaggered as he led his rag-tag mutiny across the deck to confront Reyes.

-----

Hacking their way through the thick undergrowth, the crew of the _Jamaica Farewell_ finally discovered the treasure cave shortly before noon. The jungle was so thick, so impenetrable, that the sailors didn't see the parallel path carved out by Sparrow and Cookie until they'd reached the rocks of the cliff and were able to look back down on the trees below. Simon Townsend's eyes narrowed at the evidence someone else had visited the cave recently. "Sparrow," he snarled viciously. "If you've beaten me to the treasure, I'll have your guts for garters."

Privately, Jane shared her uncle's sentiments. Ignoring feminine decorum, she grabbed a lantern from the nearest sailor and pushed her way to the forefront of the crowd of men. The thought that the pirates might have somehow beaten them to the hoarded gold agitated her to the point that she didn't even notice the sailors' reluctance to enter the narrow passage in the cliff face. Impatiently, she slipped inside, ignoring the superstitious murmurs about voodoo curses. "It's all here !" the girl's excited shout came minutes later.

It took nearly half an hour before the first chest of gold was brought out into the light. "Don't just stand there, you fools !" Townsend berated the panting, sweating sailors. "Strike the lock off ! Let's see what Featherstone has left us." Several blows from an ax broke the heavy padlock off the hasp. His thin face flushed with excitement, the English lord eagerly threw back the lid. "Gold !"

Jane pushed her uncle aside, eager to see for herself. "Gold !" she echoed, cupping her hands and spilling a shower of bright coins back into the chest.

Townsend slapped her hands away. "Keep your greedy mitts off of that," he snapped.

Jane Featherstone glared up at him, unintimidated. "Why you larcenous-"

Townsend hastily regained control of himself. "Let the men carry it back to the ship for you, Jane, dear," he advised, smiling insincerely. "No point exerting yourself in this beastly heat... my darling niece." Turning to the sailors, he barked orders. "Into the cave, two by two. Get those chests out and loaded onto the ship !" Easier said than done. Hours later the sailors were still toiling, grumbling rebelliously as they struggled to ease the heavy strongboxes down the trail in the stifling heat. "Call a halt and order the men back to camp," Uncle Simon told the captain of the _Jamaica Farewell_ grudgingly. "It's going to take another two days, maybe three, to get the treasure off the island."

-----

"Lord Reyes, I challenge you for the right to captain this vessel." There. He'd said it. No turning back now.

Reyes' features twisted in a sneer. "You dare ? You sniveling little brat, you dare to challenge me?"

Jacinto strode forward, grey eyes flashing. "My brother Juan Carlos de la Cruz, Viscount of Avila, has challenged you to a duel of honor... _Lord_ Reyes," he spat. "Could it be that you do not dare to accept his challenge ?"

Reyes flicked an invisible speck of dust from his immaculate lace cuff, supremely unconcerned. "A sniveling little pauper brat," he elaborated, "with a loud-mouthed cabin boy as his second." His lips quirked in a cruel smile as he looked down at Jacinto. "Once I've finished with your brother, I'll acquaint you with a charming little device called the cat o' nine tails, boy." Reyes pointed at Carlos. "Kill him, Nieto."

Carlos tensed with rage as the arrogant noble threatened Jacinto. Before he could react, the barrel of a pistol was pointed straight at him. Reyes' second in command Esteban Nieto smirked at him as he cocked the weapon with a loud click. A second click echoed behind Carlos' back. Luis stepped forward. "This will be a fair fight, my lords." The weapon in his hands was steady despite the tremor in his voice. Nieto's smile faded and he stepped back.

"Very well, boy. I'll take pleasure in killing you." Reyes drew his sword, the rasp of steel against leather loud in the tense silence. The men drew back, forming a circle around the two combatants.

Carlos breathed a silent prayer. _Thank God for Luis._ He drew his cutlass and saluted Reyes. If only he had his own sword instead of this heavy, clumsy piece of junk. Immediately, he repressed the thought and concentrated on his opponent. Only a fool wastes time wishing for the impossible. Reyes had the better weapon, the longer reach. No matter. Carlos would defeat him, because he must. He'd promised their mother that he would take care of Jacinto.

Then extraneous thought faded and there was nothing but the sword in his opponent's hands. The two men circled, sizing one another up. Reyes attacked first with a flurry of blows. Carlos parried and stepped back. Then, unexpectedly, he lunged forward, forcing Reyes to take a defensive posture. Carlos pressed the attack, slashing again and again. The sailors behind Reyes darted for cover as he was forced to fall back.

The haughty Spaniard recovered quickly. He parried Carlos' last slash, locking their blades together and using his greater weight to fling the young sailor back. Now it was Carlos' turn to parry desperately. "Nice try, de la Cruz," Reyes taunted. "With that heavy blade, you'll tire long before I will."

Carlos wasn't so sure; the bruises from the beating Sparrow's cook had given him still stood out lividly on Reyes' face. He thought they were evenly matched. _Hoped_ they were evenly matched. He pressed the attack again, opening a shallow cut across Reyes' cheek. Reyes countered with a vicious slash. Hampered by the unbalanced cutlass, Carlos barely managed to slow his opponent's blade. Wet heat slicked his side; the tip of Reyes' sword had grazed his ribs.

The pain that blazed an instant later turned Carlos' vision red. He closed with Reyes, steel ringing on steel as each sought an opening. Carlos could feel the older man beginning to tire. He pressed his advantage, attacking again and again without respite, ignoring the sting of the cut, the sting of sweat dripping into his eyes. With a final ferocious blow, he disarmed the arrogant noble. Reyes' blade skidded across the deck out of reach. The Spaniard put his hands in the air.

Carlos stepped back, panting. He swayed, feeling his side gingerly. The wound was deep, he realized as the excitement of the duel faded. He'd lost a lot of blood. Jacinto's scream snapped him back to reality. "Carlos, look out !" Reyes had drawn his pistol. The roar of the shot deafened Carlos. Stunned, he watched the pistol recoil, smoke gusting from the barrel.

Reyes stared back at him, the sneer on his face replaced by an expression of shock as blood stained the front of his blue brocade coat. He opened his mouth as if to speak, then fell heavily to the deck. Carlos joined him a moment later.

-----

Author's notes: This cliffhanger is dedicated to the kind and patient Talamh. ;o)


	24. Pins and Needles

Carlos woke to sharp pain in his side. "Shh, Carlito, hold still." He realized he was lying in a berth in the captain's cabin. Jacinto knelt on the thin mattress beside him. Another stab of pain and the young Spaniard realized that the boy was stitching the wound in his side closed.

"Ouch ! Wasn't it enough that Reyes tried to kill me ? Now you're trying to finish the job ?" He tensed as the needle pierced his skin again. "It feels as though you're doing embroidery," Carlos joked through clenched teeth.

"Hmm, not a bad idea. I think I'll add some daisies to this when I'm done..."

"What happened to Reyes ?" Panic gripped Carlos as the events of the afternoon came back to him. "What about Nieto ? How long was I passed out ?"

"Try to keep still. You're only making it worse," Jacinto murmured. "Reyes tried to shoot you. He missed, thank the Blessed Virgin," the boy elaborated. "Luis shot him. He's dead. That took all the fight out of Nieto... and the others were only too happy to declare you captain of the ship. Can you sit up ? Good." Jacinto proceeded to wrap a wide bandage around his brother's torso. "You were only unconscious a few minutes, truly. Now, here is what you must do. We'll get you dressed and you'll address your crew. Let them all see that you're healthy and strong, even if you don't feel it. Then you have to decide what to do with the Dutch. Their captain is already asking to speak to you." The boy's brow furrowed in a frown of concentration as he tied the bandage neatly. "I told Luis and Manuel to wrap Reyes' body in some canvas. As captain, you should say a prayer for his funeral, even though he doesn't deserve it. Show that you are a man of mercy. And for what it's worth, I recommend you free the Dutchmen from the brig."

Carlos chuckled. "You're amazing. You have everything under control, don't you ?"

"Of course," Jacinto said calmly.

"The men weren't suspicious, were they ?" Carlos asked with sudden concern.

"Don't worry, Carlito. They don't care where I learned to sew, only that none of them had to try and do it."

-----

Anamaria stabbed the last pin in and held the doll up, eyeing it appraisingly. "The lace at the cuffs is a nice touch," she told Dele. "Very realistic."

"It does look a bit like Jane's uncle Simon," Dele said. "You don't think it could really hurt him, do you ?" the girl asked worriedly.

"Of course not. I'm no mambo. Priestess," Anamaria elaborated. "There was a woman in the village where I grew up, on Hispaniola," she said reminiscently. "She was a real mambo... but she only used her powers for good. That's the real voodoo religion, not this mumbo-jumbo the sailors believe in."

"You better hope the _loa_ aren't offended by your pretend voodoo," Cookie commented ominously.

The female pirate snorted. "Offended by what, Isaac ? Scarin' a rich white man who's tryin' to steal from an orphan child ? They ought to be on our side."

Cookie grinned. "I can't wait to hear them sailors whine and fret when they wake up to find their boss been hexed. We better not overdo the scarin' too much," he added, "or those swabs goin' to run away before they finish takin' the treasure down to the beach."

"And leave us to do all that work ourselves ? That would break Jack's heart."


	25. Parlay

Jane Featherstone sat up from her blankets with a start. "Who's there?" she whispered sharply.

The ruddy glow of the campfire shining through the canvas wall of Jane's little makeshift tent revealed Jack's unmistakable profile as he knelt to enter. Beads glinted as he shifted to a more comfortable position, sitting cross-legged beside her. "Everythin's goin' just as we planned, love."

"You're awfully bold, Captain Sparrow," Jane said peevishly, still disgruntled that he'd managed to find the treasure before her. "What if one of my uncle's men catches you here?"

A faint chuckle. "Catch me? Never. I'm Cap'n Jack Sparrow!" His tone became serious as he pulled a small bottle from his pocket and thrust it into her hands. "Ye've played yer part well so far, Miss Featherstone. Be sure yer ready, in just two night's time, now."

"I will be, Captain Sparrow. Be sure _you_ are ready to keep our bargain." She glared out of the tent flap into the humid darkness. Jack Sparrow had already taken his leave.

———————

Morning dawned hot and bright. Simon Townsend stretched, trying to ease the aches and pains from sleeping on the hard ground. He could hear the camp stirring all around him, the worried mutters of the sailors. "Superstitious fools. What is it going to be this time?" Stifling a groan, he rose to his knees and crawled from his tent.

"He's still alive!" "Aye, but barely, I'll wager. Look at how pale and peaky he is—" "He'll suffer before he dies—" "The curse, it's comin' true!"

The little knot of sailors fell silent as Townsend stood and glared at them. "What, may I ask, is this all about?" Cooper shuffled his feet nervously. Townsend raised an eyebrow. "Well?"

"Look, boss." The bodyguard pointed a finger. Turning, Townsend saw the little fetish hanging from the peak of his tent. He'd missed seeing it from his hands and knees. The sailors drew back with an audible moan of fear as he snatched it down and examined it closer. It was a rag doll, a crudely-formed little poppet stuck through with four long pins. The face was drawn in the same style as the coconut-headed effigy from the hanging tree— beady eyes, weak chin, straggly mustache under a rat-like, pointed nose. Townsend resisted the urge to check the status of the growth on his upper lip. "It looks nothing like me! Get back to work, you mangy curs!"

The captain of the _Jamaica Farewell_ shouldered his way to the front of the gathering, wringing his hands. "Beggin' yer pardon, sir, but aren't ye afeared of the curse? Ye ain't lookin' very pert this mornin'... beggin' yer pardon."

"I haven't bathed or slept in days," Townsend thundered, slapping wildly at a mosquito. The sailors drew back, collective alarm registering on their slack-jawed faces. "It's just a mosquito," he snarled. Don't you see it? There is no curse." Losing all patience, the nobleman drew a pistol from beneath his waistcoat. "Get back to work, now, or suffer the consequences!"

It was a foolish gamble, Townsend knew—most of the landing party were armed with pistols of their own. But it worked, for the moment. The captain gestured to his crew. With many backward glances and mutters of 'cursed', the sailors returned to the laborious task of lugging the chests of treasure down to the shore. As he turned away, Uncle Simon caught Jane's eye. "I'm praying for your survival, Uncle dearest," she said piously, her voice pitched loud enough for the retreating sailors to hear.

Townsend's jaw clenched in annoyance. "Don't trouble yourself, my little darling," he managed to grind out. "I am, _and will remain_, in perfect health."

———————

Mr. Gibbs boarded the _Black Pearl_, a worried frown creasing his broad face. "I've already sent someone to wake the Cap'n," Carnehan assured him.

Jack joined them on the poop deck a few minutes later. "Wot do ye make of it, Jackie ?" Gibbs asked as the cap'n peered through his spyglass.

Jack's feet shuffled to one side, leaving the rest of his body behind momentarily. He lurched sideways, clutching the rail for balance as he passed the tarnished brass instrument to the red-headed sailor. "Number four," he mused, adding up on his fingers.

Gibbs, who had long since lost count, frowned. "Wot?"

"Just a guess this time, mind ye, but I'd say that new ship is another one of Lady Jane's 'uncles'," Jack replied.

"Whoever it is, they be flyin' the colors of the Dutch West India Company," Carnehan reported, taking his turn with the spyglass.

"Lady Jane has a Dutch uncle, too?" Mr. Gibbs shook his head sympathetically. "Poor Lady Jane."

———————

Simon Townsend's day, already off to a bad start, wasn't getting any better. He slapped at yet another flying pest and silently cursed the sweating, laboring sailors who struggled behind him, heaving and pulling the heavy caskets of treasure down the narrow jungle trail. Under his lace-trimmed shirt and brocade waistcoat, his shoulder blades itched. He could sense the eyes of the men on him whenever there was a pause in activity. Like now. Townsend stopped and called for his ever-present bodyguards. "McNeil. Cooper. Come here!" He took advantage of the break to insert a finger in the back of his left shoe, trying to loosen it just a bit. Townsend scowled, envying the bare-chested, barefoot sailors. Filthy and uncouth they might be, but at least they weren't suffering from blisters. A groan from the sailor waiting directly behind him interrupted his self-pity. Exasperated, he turned to McNeil. "What is the problem?"

McNeil looked stricken. "Y-your foot..."

Townsend rolled his eyes to the heavens, then let his gaze come to rest on the second burly guard. "Cooper? I know this is asking a great deal, but do you have anything intelligent to add?"

"The voodoo doll, sir! There was a pin through your right foot."

"This foot?" Townsend indicated the shoe he was still tugging at. Cooper nodded mutely, his face mournful. "This is my left foot, you dolt!"

A murmur went up, making its way back along the ragged line of sailors. Cooper and McNeil sighed heavily in unison. "There was pins through both feet, boss," McNeil explained.

Snarling, Townsend whirled around and strode up the trail, trying hard not to limp. "Keep moving!"

———————

The Dutch vessel drew closer to the harbor and the three ships anchored there. The crew of the _Pearl _watched in nervous anticipation, lined up along the rail. Not far away, Mr. Gibbs and the crew of the _Venganza_ did the same.

"Get to yer places," Cap'n Sparrow ordered confidently. "Ye know wot to do." He took his own place at the helm.

Taylor glanced up at him. "Do ye think they'll want to parlay, Cap'n?"

"Anythin's possible." Jack's eyes rolled to the _Jamaica Farewell_. Her captain and all but three of her crew were ashore, retrieving his treasure. The men still on board had made no attempt to signal those on shore. Jack shook his head reproachfully. The Dutch ship would be within firing range in minutes.

"The ship's called the _Zwaardvis_," Taylor pointed out. "_Zvaardvis_... wot do you think it means?"

"I don't know," Jack said off-handedly. "_Ik spreek geen Nederlands_. At any rate, they're runnin' up the flag of truce. They want to parlay." He waved to Mr. Cotton, who hurried to hoist the _Black Pearl's_ own, somewhat dingy white flag. Jack grinned down at Taylor and lounged back against the rail, totally at ease. "Let's hear wot they have to say."

———————

Author's notes: Many thanks to jjonahjameson and Talamh for reviewing the last couple of belated chapters.


	26. Cursed

"Are you sure you're feeling all right, sir ?" Cooper and McNeil hovered close to Simon Townsend, wearing twin expressions of concern.

Townsend gave up mopping his brow and tucked his handkerchief back into his pocket. "For the last time, I feel fine. I'm simply a little warm," he told the pair impatiently. "This is the Caribbean, after all."

Cooper laid the back of one meaty hand on Townsend's forehead. "Feverish," he opined.

McNeil nodded sadly.

"I am not feverish ! We are in the jungle. It's bloody hot here !"

"Feverish," one of the nearby sailors repeated, "the curse is gettin' worse." "How long until it starts to spread, that's wot I'm askin' ?" "Get off this cursed island before it does, says I."

Townsend rolled his eyes and restrained himself from shouting at the sailors. Another day, he told himself. Just one more day to get the treasure loaded onto the ship. When the fools see that I haven't died in the night, Sparrow's nonsense will have no further effect.

———————

Jane approached the _Jamaica Farewell_'s cook during the noon rest break. "My uncle is feverish," she told the man imperiously. "Give me some rum for him to drink."

"I don't know as that's such a good idea, missy." The cook scratched his head.

"Nonsense. It will give him strength."

"Good for wot ails him," piped up a grizzled sailor. "Aye, that's true" added another, wisely. The cook shrugged. He really couldn't argue. Rum, and plenty of it, was most sailors' medicine of choice. He poured out a generous cupful and handed it to Jane.

Once out of sight of the sailors, the girl slipped off the trail and into the thick undergrowth. Her heart pounded as she set the cup carefully on the ground and pulled out the little glass vial Captain Sparrow had given her. Courage, she reminded herself, stilling the tremor in her hand as she uncorked it. If I hear anyone coming, I can always warn them away. They'll think I'm answering a call of nature. Carefully, she allowed three drops of liquid to fall into the cup of rum. This was real medicine, purloined from the _Venganza_'s small stock. A purgative... Jane's lips quirked up in an unpleasant smile. She dispensed another three drops.

Back on the trail, the medicine safely hidden away, Jane took a moment to smooth her hair and skirts before making her way back to where her uncle sat nursing his blistered feet. "Poor Uncle Simon. I brought you something to make you feel better."

"I feel fine," Townsend whined reflexively. He took the cup, giving his niece a suspicious look.

She smiled at him, the picture of innocence. "It's rum."

"I can smell that." Uncle Simon's nose twitched, rodent-like. Apparently satisfied, he tipped the cup up and drained it.

———————

Carlos de la Cruz waited at the rail of the _Zvaardvis _as members of the Dutch crew lowered the longboat. Across the tiny bay, white flags fluttered from the masts of the _Venganza_ and the _Black Pearl_. The captain of the_ Zvaardvis _peered through his spyglass at the third ship, which still flew the Union Jack. Vargas translated his comments. "There doesn't seem to be anyone aboard the _Jamaica Farewell_. They must all be ashore."

"This is folly, Carlito," Jacinto murmured. "_Capitán_ Sparrow is a buccaneer. You cannot parley with him... you have nothing to offer."

"Don't I ? Watch and see, little brother."

———————

"What's going on ?" Dele peered out of the porthole of the fore cabin she and Anamaria were hiding in. Sighing, she leaned back. It was futile. Now that the longboat from the _Zvaardvis _had tied up alongside the _Pearl_, there was nothing of interest to see.

Anamaria didn't look up from the dagger she was sharpening. "Sneak out and have a look," she said casually.

"B-but we're supposed to stay hidden," Dele protested. There was no reply, only the scrape of the blade across the whetstone. "Could we... really ?"

Anamaria grinned and tossed the whetstone aside, sheathing the dagger at her belt. "Come on. Wot are ye waitin' for ?" She led the girl down the narrow corridor between cabins and up the companionway. The female pirate's eyes darted from the deck to the rigging. All eyes were focused on the little delegation from the _Zvaardvis_. "Come on," she repeated.

Dele shook her head, eyes wide. "They'll see us !"

"Not if they ain't lookin'." Grabbing the girl's hand, she pulled her across the deck and behind some water barrels. From this vantage point, they could hear everything, and even catch the occasional glimpse of the Dutch captain in his black coat and hat. It seemed, however, that the young Spaniard de la Cruz was doing most of the talking.

"This is _Capitán _De Vries," Carlos introduced the Dutchman. "As you predicted, _Capitán_ Sparrow, a ship did come along to rescue us. His ship." The young Spaniard repeated the introductions in Spanish to a short, round-faced sailor, who in turn translated into Dutch for the benefit of Captain De Vries.

"Aye," Mr. Gibbs said slowly, "and wot happened to Lord Reyes ?"

"He is dead," Carlos said shortly. "In... gratitude... for the return of his ship, _Capitán _De Vries agreed to sail to these coordinates." He turned back to Sparrow. "You have something that belong to me, _señor_. My sword."

One beringed hand caressed the hilt of Carlos' sword, the other gestured toward the young sailor, fingers spread wide. "Ye followed me here just to get yer sword back ?" Jack asked incredulously.

"It is a family heirloom," Carlos replied with dignity. "My brother and I have already lose so much, _Capitán_ Sparrow. I refuse to lose anything more."

"Wot of the treasure ?" Gibbs asked.

The short Spanish translator repeated Gibbs' question to De Vries. The Dutch captain guffawed loudly. A rapid conversation between de la Cruz and Vargas followed, which was again translated for Captain De Vries. Gibbs and Sparrow watched the exchange, bemused.

"As you can see, we have a small difficulty with the language," Carlos said. "_Capitán _De Vries does no speak Spanish. Or English. Only Dutch. Fortunately, Vargas here speaks Dutch. But we have decide not to be... completely... truthful with De Vries. He does not know about the treasure."

"But—" Gibbs stopped himself.

"Vargas is tell the _Capitán _an amusing story about me," Carlos explained with just a trace of a smile. "De Vries thinks I am a bit of a fool. He is a good man, an honest merchant," he added quietly. "There was no need to trouble him with piracy."

Jack threw back his head and laughed in delight. "I always like ye, Carlos me lad." He turned to De Vries. "Never trust a Spaniard," he advised, still laughing. De Vries beamed and pumped Sparrow's hand, nodding enthusiastically. After a moment, the pirate captain extricated himself and whirled back to Carlos, suddenly serious. "So the Dutchman is in the dark. But wot about ye and yer crew ?"

Carlos' almost-smile widened a shade more. "Ah. My crew. We want a share of the treasure, _señor_. You can no believe we came all this way for nothing."

Jack shrugged. "Wot's in it for me ?"

Carlos was grinning now. "Another ship for your armada, _Capitán_ Sparrow." His eyes flicked to the _Jamaica Farewell_.

"Wouldn't that be a bit difficult for ye to hand over to me, boy ? Seein' as she ain't yer ship ?" Kohl-rimmed eyes narrowed shrewdly. "And why would ye think I need _you_ to hand her over in the first place ? I can take her on me own, any time I like."

"_Sí_, you can take her. But can you keep her ?" Carlos shook his head. "Your crew is already divide between two ships. I can offer you twelve good men."

"Thirteen !" Jacinto stepped forward, eyes flashing.

"Thirteen," Carlos amended. "What do you say, _Capitán_ Sparrow ?"

Jack appeared to be far more interested in a hole in the sleeve of his shirt than anything de la Cruz had to say. Finally, he met the young sailor's eyes. "Are yer men willin' to serve under a female cap'n ?" In her hiding place behind the water barrel, Anamaria tensed.

"I-I think so... _sí_. Yes."

"And yer brother stays with me, aboard the _Pearl_." Jack's eyes gleamed.

Carlos' hand strayed to the hilt of his cutlass. "Where Jacinto stays, I stay."

Jack drew his longsword with a flourish, spun it in the air, and balanced it across his forearm, hilt toward Carlos. He bowed gallantly. "Mister de la Cruz, I believe we have an accord."

———————

Jane Featherstone made her way down the last hill to the beach, parasol held high. She was flanked by the captain of the _Jamaica Farewell _and her uncle's bodyguard McNeil.

Some distance back, the crew sweated and strained, lugging the treasure on the last leg of its journey from cave to shore.

Between the two groups tottered Simon Townsend, supported by Cooper. "We're almost there, boss," the ham-fisted lackey encouraged.

Townsend was pale-faced and sweating. "I need to stop—" he groaned.

"Just a few more steps," Cooper wheedled.

"I don't think I can make it... _Nooo_ ! Not again !" Pulling away from the bigger man, Townsend crashed through the bushes. Moments later those still on the trail heard the now-unmistakable sounds of Jane's uncle's bowels emptying. Explosively.

"That's a powerful curse," muttered a sailor, peering into the bushes with morbid curiosity. "Wonder how much longer he's goin' to live ?"

"Nothing to see here," Cooper said, shoving the man aside.

"Poor Uncle Simon," Jane said insincerely. Her face serene, she adjusted the tilt of her parasol and continued toward the beach now visible through the trees.


	27. Backstage

Anamaria paced the narrow confines of her cabin. Dele sat on the narrow berth, arms around her knees, and tried to ignore her. The _Zvaardvis_ and her Dutch crew had sailed away, leaving the fourteen Spaniards behind. The bustle of activity on deck that had followed had forced them to abandon their hiding place behind the barrels and return below. Just as it seemed Anamaria would explode from boredom and pent-up curiosity, there was a knock at the cabin door. Both females leapt to answer it and were nearly bowled over by Sparrow, entering with his customary swagger.

"Townsend and his crew have got me treasure down to the beach," he gloated, producing a full bottle of rum and two cups with a flourish. "The timin' is perfect ! They should be able to get one third of the gold loaded before sunset." Dele held her breath as the pirate raised the bottle high and sloshed rum into Anamaria's glass. She still wasn't quite used to Cap'n Sparrow's tipsy manner. He looked as though he might fall over or spill the entire contents at any second. She hid a smile as he filled both cups to the brim without scattering a single drop. "Ye're ready for yer debut tonight, ladies ?" As an afterthought, the pirate produced a perfectly ripened mango from one voluminous pocket of his coat and tossed it to Dele with a wink.

"Aye, Jack, we're ready," Anamaria replied impatiently. "What of the Dutch ship ?" she prompted.

Jack's eyes widened. "Dutch ship ? Oh, the _Zvaardvis_," he said carelessly, waving his cup of rum in a dismissive gesture. "They finished their errand, ye might say. They weighed anchor and scarpered off."

"And..." Every muscle in her body was tensed.

Dele sidled toward the cabin door. Now might be a good time to slip away to the galley.

Unfortunately, Sparrow chose that moment to lurch to one side, blocking her escape. He recovered his balance and poured Anamaria a refill. "And young Carlos and his crew have signed on with me armada." Jack drifted off into a private reverie of his own, standing up straight for once and slipping one hand into the lapel of his disreputable coat. His eyes scanned a distant horizon that only he could see.

"Yer... armada." Anamaria's voice, pitched low and dangerous, startled the pirate out of his daydream. He quickly backstepped. Dele retreated just as quickly to her seat on the berth. "And would ye mind tellin' me, _Admiral _Sparrow, who's to captain yer third ship ?"

Jack smiled winningly at the furious woman. "Why, Ana me love, ye know that as well as I do."

Her expression softened just a bit. "Tell me anyway, Jack."

Sparrow poured another refill into both cups, glancing sidelong at Anamaria as he did so. "The only problem I can foresee is Taylor's a wee bit too short to reach the helm."

"Taylor?" Anamaria shrieked. "_Taylor_? Ye scurvy, flea-infested bilge rat! All these years ye been promisin' me a ship of me own—" The cup of rum was dashed to the floor. The freshly-sharpened dagger appeared in her hand as she advanced on Sparrow, eyes wild. Dele screamed.

Jack dodged. Miraculously, he avoided spilling any of the rum in his own glass. "I were foolin' with ye. Ye're the new captain, Anamaria," he laughed.

"Ye mean that? No more jokes, now!"

"I mean it." Cap'n Sparrow placed one hand over his heart in a dramatic gesture of sincerity. The effect was somewhat spoiled by the snorts of laughter that kept escaping from his nose.

Dele breathed a sigh of relief. Anamaria nodded, sheathing her dagger. "Good. It's about time." Suddenly, she sprang forward and slapped Jack soundly across the face. He staggered back, gaping at her in disbelief.

"That," Anamaria said, "was for scarin' the girl."

——————

Another beautiful Caribbean sunset painted the sky and waters red and gold. Simon Townsend eased his aching body down onto his blankets and allowed himself a soft groan of relief. His stomach upset and diarrhea had finally abated. Probably tainted salt pork, gone bad in the relentless Caribbean heat, he thought, cursing the superstitious sailors. Of course none of them had been affected... the riff-raff were accustomed to poor rations, were possessed of cast-iron stomachs. Only one more day on this wretched island, thankfully. Of course, there was the problem of the two pirate ships anchored nearby. Townsend smiled thinly. Let his brat of a niece think he was worried. Truth be told, he wasn't particularly concerned. He had anticipated having to battle Javier Reyes for the gold, but Sparrow had taken care of the Spaniard for him, hadn't he? And Sparrow and his crew, Townsend thought, could be bought off easily. As long as he could get the man to listen to reason... he'd been mad as a hatter, aboard his ship. Odd, that. Sparrow had seemed sane enough, back in Del Rio.

Simon's smile widened as a new thought occurred to him. Perhaps he could convince the lunatic pirate to kidnap his irritating niece a second time! Sparrow could demand a ransom from her father's kin in Jamaica. Whether the ransom was paid or not was of no concern—he, Townsend, would be rid of the girl. Pleased with the notion, Simon Townsend drifted off to sleep.

——————

Under cover of darkness, a small band of Spaniards rowed across from the _Black Pearl_ and stealthily boarded the _Jamaica Farewell_. Following the example Jack Sparrow had set when he'd captured the _Venganza_, the sailors quickly took control of the _Jamaica Farewell_ without a single drop of blood being shed on either side. They hoisted the Jolly Rodger to the top of the mizzen mast, where, come the dawn, it would flutter for all to see.

——————

Mr. Gibbs stood on the deck of the _Venganza_, smoking his pipe, waiting stoically. The night was silent but for the creak of the rigging and the slapping of waves against the hull. Similar peaceful sounds could be heard from the other two ships in the bay. Gibbs suppressed a grin. Once again, it would be his job to provide a distraction. A lantern flared to life in the captain's cabin of the _Jamaica Farewell_. Gibbs narrowed his eyes; one lantern might be coincidence. He relaxed as a second lantern's light winked into view. The vessel was now in the hands of their Spanish allies.

A moment later Gibbs was striding down the deck, pistol drawn. "Places, men," he called out grimly. "It be nearly time fer battle." The old first mate took his responsibilities seriously; If Jackie wanted a fake sea-battle as a distraction, then he, Gibbs, would provide a skirmish that would fool even the Royal Navy's best officers.

The crew of the _Venganza_ ran to man the ship's cannons. Gibbs scanned the shoreline. Three small bonfires dotted the beach where Simon Townsend and his men from the _Jamaica Farewell _had camped with the treasure. Further up the beach, a light flashed once, twice, dim and quickly doused. "The Cap'n's landin' party," Gibbs breathed. Immediately, he fired his pistol into the air.

The noise of the shot rolled across the water. Shouts of confusion and alarm went up from the beach. On board the _Venganza_, nobody noticed. At Gibbs' signal, the waiting crew had already fired the cannons.

——————

Cookie crouched in the darkness beneath the palm trees, stripped to the waist, his face and chest liberally smeared with broad strokes of white. Beside him, Sparrow squinted in the faint light of the bull's-eye lantern as he applied the finishing touches to Dele's make-up with a practiced hand. Anamaria rolled her eyes. "The kohl is one thing, Jack, but rice powder and rouge? I'm not even goin' to ask."

Gold teeth flashed as the pirate captain grinned. "Ye have to admit, Ana me love, the cosmetics add immeasurably to the horrifyin' effect." He took Dele by the shoulders and turned her around to face Anamaria. "Della makes a pretty little ghost, don't she?"

Dele giggled nervously. She and Anamaria were both dressed in white, costumes cobbled together from an assortment of Miss Jane's frilly petticoats, plundered from one of her many trunks of clothing. Dele's white face and dress were streaked with garish red rouge. Sparrow turned her back around and frowned critically at his handiwork. "In the firelight an' confusion, it'll pass fer blood. Are ye ready to play the voodoo priestess?" he asked Anamaria.

The quartermaster tossed her head. Her hair, released from its customary ponytail, stood out in a wild mane. She grinned savagely. "I'm ready to scare the piss outta them ignorant scallywags. Let's go."

Dele's heart pounded as they slipped through the shadows at the edge of the treeline, heading toward the camp. Cookie laid a big, reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Don't you worry none, Ayodele. I be right behind you, all the way."

——————

Simon Townsend shifted restlessly on his pallet of blankets and cursed the swarms of mosquitoes that forced him to keep the tent flaps closed. In the stifling darkness, he'd been having the worst dream, cannons and fire and blood...

With a shock, he realized that the cannon fire was real. Cursing even louder, he scrambled to his knees. Cooper thrust his big, blunt head into the tent just as Townsend stuck his own head out to see what was happening. "Ouch!" The smaller man fell back onto his blankets, rubbing his forehead in pain. He noted sourly that the bodyguard didn't seem to have been affected at all by their collision. "Idiot! Blockhead! What's going on out there?"

"Sorry boss." Cooper backed out of the tent. Townsend cautiously followed him. "They're firing on our ship, boss."

This was totally unexpected. "The_ Jamaica Farewell?"_ Townsend said stupidly. He stared out across the water. It was true—the _Venganza_ had at least four guns trained broadside at the larger vessel. He could tell by the four muzzle flashes as the pirate ship fired another volley at point-blank range. "Sparrow is mad!" Townsend shrieked. A wave of dizziness reminded him that he'd spent the afternoon in the violent throes of food poisoning. He sat down abruptly on a nearby log to catch his breath. A single, belated cannon shot rang out from the _Jamaica Farewell_. "Fools! Sparrow can't hold three ships," he said more calmly. "He hasn't enough men. He's gained nothing, even if he sinks her —as long as I hold the treasure, he'll have to agree to my terms." The nobleman held out an imperious hand for Cooper to help him to his feet. "I want a triple guard around the camp," he ordered. "See to it, Cooper. Tell that idiot captain—"

A piercing scream from the jungle interrupted him.

——————

Author's notes: Many thanks to jjonahjameson and CaptainTish for the kind reviews.


	28. Ghost

Dele took a deep breath and screamed with all her might, trying her best to imbue the sound with horror and fear. It wasn't difficult. The prospect of running headlong into the crowd of armed sailors was frightening. Cookie gave her a gentle push, repeating, "Right behind you," and she ran out of the cover of the trees, screaming again and again. After her, slashing wildly with a meat cleaver, Cookie yelled, "Arrrr!" Sailors scattered, crying out in superstitious dismay.

They circled the first firepit, the big cook keeping pace, always just a few steps behind but never quite catching her, even when he had to slow down and swing the cleaver above her head. Dele nearly giggled. The sailors had no way of knowing that the murderous pirate bearing down on her was actually her protector and friend.

"It's the little maid, the one that was murdered!" "A ghost!" "We're truly cursed, lads!"

Cap'n Jack Sparrow grinned and preened in the darkness beyond the firelight. The plan was working perfectly... No surprise, since he himself had thought of it. "How about a kiss fer luck, Ana me sweet?"

The ersatz voodoo priestess scowled at him. "Just light me, Cap'n. It's nigh on time fer me to make me entrance."

Jack sketched a bow to her. "Ye can't blame a man fer tryin'."

—————

Jane took advantage of the confusion to duck away from the burly bodyguard McNeil and make a run for the treeline. The cabin boy had apparently had the same idea; there was a quick scuffle as they both reached the likely shelter of a large bush at the same time. Jane elbowed the boy in the ribs. "Out of my way! This is_ my _hiding place!" Billy, no gentleman, got a grip on her hair and yanked.

"I curse ye all! Every man jack of ye!" Anamaria strode into the camp like an avenging angel, wreathed in smoke from the fuses braided into her hair and held aloft in her hands. Sailors fell to their knees, gibbering in terror.

Billy and Jane, grappling under the bush, stopped and gaped at the sight. Farther down the beach, Della's shrieks and Cookie's roars could still be heard. Uncle Simon bellowed for his bodyguards. Closer by, a sailor babbled, "Sweet mother of god, have mercy..."

Encouraged, Anamaria raised her voice even louder, improvising. "Ooooh, the red-hot gates of hell be creepin' open... Satan be heatin' his pokers for ye!" She whirled, the flickering light of the coals painting her white robes red as blood. "Fall down on yer knees and beg fer deliverance from damnation!" The men moaned and fell back as she prowled through the camp.

"Ye all be cursed, cuuuuuuuursed—ow!" Billy giggled as Anamaria hastily yanked one of the fuses from her hair, it having apparently burned down too close to her scalp for comfort. None of the other sailors seemed to notice; they were too busy running for cover. Jane tried and failed to stifle her own mirth. The two children clung to one another helplessly, wiping tears of laughter from their eyes.

Heavy footsteps blundered through the undergrowth. "Lady Jane, is that you?" They fell silent, but too late. Cooper peered down through the leaves. A giant paw grabbed Jane, lifted her off her feet as easily as if she were a kitten. "Don't be afraid, missy," Cooper said reassuringly, cradling her in his arms. "I'll keep you safe."

"Unhand me!" Jane shrilled. She squirmed and pushed at the bodyguard's beefy biceps, a futile attempt to get free. "Let me go, you brute!"

"Let her go!" Billy kicked at Cooper's shins.

"Put the girl down." Firelight glinted off the barrel of a pistol, aimed at the big man's head. There was an audible click as Cap'n Sparrow cocked the weapon. It didn't take long for the threat to sink in. Cooper lowered Jane to her feet. His arms fell limply to his sides as she twisted out of his grasp. Laughing, Sparrow grabbed her hand and they fled down the beach.

Cooper blinked stupidly down at Billy, still not certain how his rescue of little Miss Jane had gone so horribly wrong. Billy stared back at him, caught off guard by this latest turn of events. Collecting his wits, the cabin boy whirled and ran after Sparrow, shouting, "Cap'n Sparrow! Cap'n Sparrow! Take me with you... I want to be a pirate too!"

——————

Author's notes: Part of Anamaria's speech to the sailors was taken from the movie "Muppet Treasure Island". Tim Curry as Long John Silver says the same words to his muppet crew when they mutiny. Teehee.

The pirate Blackbeard really did braid canon fuses into his hair and beard and lit them to enhance his ferocious appearance in battle.


End file.
